


Far From Ra

by Lydjachan



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Ancient Egypt, Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 04:56:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3237101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lydjachan/pseuds/Lydjachan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throughout all ages of time the Kraang have manipulated men and molded monsters to aid them in their conquest of the planet known as earth. In the shadow of pyramids amongst the halls of ancient kings the Kraang once again try bring the people of earth under their dominion, by impersonating their gods. Hamakto was a priest of Ra who sought only to maintain the balance of his world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cover Art: mizu-inu - please view her amazing work! mizu-inu dot deviantart dot com
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT or Ancient Egypt. Written for fun not profit. While a lot of research went into making this period accurate many creative liberties were take to fit the genre. Please enjoy!

The bulrushes swayed fiercely in the strong wind as the water crept higher up their thin stems. They moved as one, giving the impression of being a single monstrous entity as they undulated. Their scratchy stalks rubbed against one another and the fluffy tops were helplessly tossed together making a roar that drowned all the other soft sounds that could usually be heard along the holy bank. It was the height of foolishness to be caught on the flooded plane on a night such as this. It was obvious that the gods were angry and he should have known better. He was a priest after all, it was his business to know the moods of the gods. He knew the reason for their anger was his very actions and now his only choice was to flee and pray that there would be at least one deity left with whom he still found favor.

Hazarding a look back Hamakto saw that, at last, he could no longer make out the angry glint of torch-light that had been pursuing him through the city to the outskirts of flooded plains. Collapsing with exhaustion amongst the tall river grass, he tried to drag air into his depleted body. Everything ached and his legs began to twitch in protest from the flight he had just endured. Silently he praised the gods for his youth spent as a messenger and temple runner. If not for that learned endurance, he never would have gotten away.

It was hard for the experienced priest to fully accept just how a day that had started much like any other could end like this. Instead of slumbering communion, his spirit delving into the realm of deity while his body was resting to be ready for a new day of performing the rituals and sacrifices to past kings and gods, he was crouched in the shallow waters at the bank of the sacred Nile, sinking slightly into the softening earth, a fugitive from Pharaoh. The magnitude of his fall from grace was more than he could really comprehend, though as his heart slowed and his breathing calmed, he realized that he should have known, after all he had seen the signs in his dreams.

The rays of the dawning sun fell upon the altar as the disk rose from The Nile, the sharp shadows of the pyramids cast everything but the temple where Hamakto was offering heqet and bread, into semi-darkness. It was a good omen. The pharaoh had been diligent in his trials of the night and successfully guided the sun on its journey through the Underworld. The priest basked in the glory of Ra as he chanted the spells to help the guide the gods course across the sky.

Soon though, the golden light began to be eclipsed by something different. A pink, angry rolling mass began to consume the healthy yellow-gold of Ra's disk until an undulating shimmering magenta mass filled the sky in a sick mockery of the day deity. A sicking cold fear seeped into Hamakto's bones as his god was consumed before him, then when he thought that his horror was complete the rays shot forth from the sky disk, their speed frightening and accompanied by a high pitched screech harsher than the cry of a falcon on the hunt. The beams became solid tendrils with grasping spades reaching out only to plunge themselves deep into the soft earth of the ripening fields of grain that painted the flat delta golden. A heartbeat of silence filled the plain, as before his very eyes, Hamakto saw the Aten, so commonly carved and painted on the temple walls, brought to life in the sky above Giza. A part of his soul almost wanted to cry at its majesty, all his life he had served the gods and now, to see one in its full magnificence before him, pierced him to his core. Yet, somehow an inner voice told him that all was not well. Ra and Aten should be one, they were but two forms of the same being, so why had the transition seem so violent, forced, and invasive?

His musings were interrupted as he noticed a black shadow starting to spread from the horizon. His vision became sharp and Hamakto was able to tell that it was not a shadow at all, but the full golden grain had begun to shrivel and wilt. A wave of pestilence coursed through the fields, radiating out from each place where Aten's pink limb was sunk into the earth.

As if the decimation of the crops was not enough, the Nile, holy river, the life blood of Egypt, was also slowly being changed and corrupted. It became thick and the same pattern of shifting and shining that defined the disk of Aten spread through its waters, only now in shades of green and blue. The world became painted in colors he had never seen before but quickly came to hate, all at once too bright but lacking any warmth, the darker shades of sickness a cruel outline to the now alien scenery.

Then upon these new waters, a vessel came into view. It was the Pharaoh's barge, upon it was an altar where priests offered worship to the false sun, Pharaoh himself dipping a vessel into the sick waters and raising it high above his head in oblation as the sound of chanted spells filled the air. As Hamakto looked on, the thick waters began to roll and boil, soon after the pantheon of gods began to break the surface; Thoth, Horus, Bast, Taweret, Khnum, Sobek and Wadjet amongst them. Curious by their very absence, Osiris and Isis were not in attendance, nor were any of their kin who took on the guise of man. In fact all those he could see were in the likeness or form of animals, a powerful, if incomplete, gathering of the other-worldly. Regardless a spark of hope flickered in his being, surely with so many gods in attendance the balance would be restored and Aten's wrath would be satiated, the land would be blessed again. But apparently the ire of the king of gods would not be soothed. The tendrils now pulled together, tearing up the land and decimating the pyramids and temples in their path. In the cradle of those arms all was gathered in, offerings, Pharaoh and animal gods and a cruel jagged smile split the disk in half. Before his eyes, they were crushed, their essence spilling to the tainted earth and staining it blood red. Then a tentacle dripping with gore shot in his direction, destroying the altar he had been rooted before as the had horror unfolded, throwing him violently aside as all became darkness.

Hamakto awoke with a start, his thin linens soaked through to dampen the straw underneath. It took a while for his heart to stop pounding and for him to realize that he was safe within his own bed. He was not on that horrific plain but in the small alcove that served as his room off the common space he shared with his fellow priests. He wiped the sweat from his brow and sat up, mentally cataloging and committing every possible thing he could about his vision to memory. It was a practice he had been taught early in his apprenticeship, after it was shown that his dreams had an uncanny penchant for coming true. This dream however was not new to him. For several months now he had seen this strange vision at least once a week, but its recurrence had been more frequent as of late, this being the fourth night in a row. At last though, he felt as if the message was finally complete, because the figure offering sacrifice had shifted from the high priest to the Pharaoh himself. The time for patience and interpretation was over, now was the time to act and with that thought in mind, the prophetic priest dedicated himself to planning.

He entered the hall tall and proud. He had waited outside the gilded doors for the better part of the day, knowing that there was a chance that he may not be given an audience with Pharaoh Orakusakmet at all. He was not alone in his dalliance outside the chambers, a small throng of minor priests, advisers and dignitaries kept him company. Today the throne room was appointed as open to the court, where ranking residence of the royal complex could lay their petitions before His Lordship. The high-priest's continual dismissal of his recurring vision had brought him to this venture and he would not waste the opportunity. The gods had a message to send and would not leave him in peace until he delivered it.

The room was vast and confining all at once as he strode between the sculptured columns before they became scarce in front of the dais, where Pharaoh stood, in full headdress, hook and ankh in clenched fists crossed over his arms. In traditional oblation, Hamakto stooped to one knee before his king, lowering his eyes to the floor as the symbols of power and authority were brought to rest on his shoulders.

"Ye are before Egypt, let not falsehood escape thy lips." The king then placed his staves down on a gold platter held by an attendant and took up a goblet. From the fruity smell that wafted towards to Hamakto, it must have contained wine of the highest quality. "May the blood of Isis keep ye from reproach." Then Pharaoh passed him the cup and the priest took an obligatory sip before passing it back. Beneath the fine taste, Hamakto was able to detect the hint of strong herb and bitter seeds, it was a potion that was often given to those being interrogated. The mix was known to give the desired result, it did make the recipient's tongue loser, but only if they were unaware what they had been given. A strong will could easily overcome the effects. It did not bother the priest, for he had nothing to hide, but it did speak somewhat to the king's state of mind, giving credence to his own suspicion that all was not well within the palace walls.

Finishing the formalities, the king had retired to his seat, calm but straight backed and attentive, indicating that Hamakto should lay out his case. "Mighty Pharaoh Orakusakmet, ruler of the two lands and god over all Ra touches, I plead that you heed my words." With a nod to the scribes to be sure they were ready, Hamakto launched into a dramatic recital of his vision, making sure to emphasize the danger with well placed pauses and dramatic reveals, trying elicit the same dread and urgency he had felt. He was careful not to be too enthusiastic though, priestcraft was a fine balance of preaching and entertainment, calculated skill and natural talent, and Hamakto had been honing his craft for years.

The recitation complete, the dream weaver looked up to see how his revelation had been received. Pharaoh was seated on his golden couch, in a splayed and contemplative pose, elbow on a knee and chin propped on cocked fist. The chamber fell quiet except the soft sounds of wood scraping against papyri as the scribes continued in their efforts to transcribe the flowery imagery in quick coptic, later to be converted into full gylphs for the official record should the meeting be deemed worthy of such attention. It was only after several minutes, once the scratching had stopped and the scribes were once again still, patiently waiting, that Orakusakmet stirred himself. Standing, then pacing the width of his dias, almost predatory as he stalked, waiting to pounce at some unknown threat. His voice growled with an equal measure of curiosity and annoyance.

"Is this the first time you have had this… vision?"

"No my lord, for several months now the gods have sent these dreams to me. In pieces at first, until night after night they fill my slumber."

"Hmm…" The king descended the steps to stand directly in front of Hamakto, holding his gaze. "Who else have you spoken to about them?"

Hamakto swallowed and felt the overwhelming urge to answer the question fully, the potion taking effect, yet there was a dangerous glint in the ruler's eye that seemed to ensure that anyone else privy to the information would soon be standing in the priests' place. There was one whom he could not allow such to befall, so with only a moment's hesitation he allowed only the most necessary of truth's to flow past his lips.

"I was much concerned and so brought the matter before the High Priest of Ra, His eminence Faihoruko." Hamakto was more than happy to let the name drop. He had never really gotten along well with the leader of his sect, finding his penchant for being more interested in wealth than worship, distasteful. A flash of resentment was quickly suppressed but not before Hamakto had seen if flit across Pharaoh's face, maybe he was not the only one who found fault with one of the more powerful priests in the land.

"And was he able to tell you its meaning?"

"He does not care about dreams except for the gold of those who wish to pay for them to have meaning," the priest remarked dryly.

This elicited a hearty chuckle and the king moved back from his posture of scrutiny to resettle himself upon the throne. "And what of you, my sleeping prophet? Surely you would not come before the son of Horus without some insight. What would you have me do about this vision of yours?"

Bowing slightly to hide a grin. "I would never presume to tell the great Pharaoh what action he should or should not take. But I would be a poor servant indeed if I did not offer my expertise." The only response being a noncommittal sound he conjectured that he should continue. "The Aten appears to be unhappy with our land and there is the possibility that the crops may fail and the waters befouled come the time of harvest. It would be wise for Pharaoh to do what he can to preserve the people of the Nile lands. I see two options. Conserve, stop all building and campaigns in foreign lands. Focus on helping the people to survive the coming trouble. Fill the granaries, make reservoirs to store water, increase the production of heqet so that the people may survive when all else fails. The other option, most honored Pharaoh, is to appease. Offer greater sacrifices, never let the prayers cease, appeal to the gods for protection, strengthen the power of Ra that he might overcome Aten and balance be restored between them."

"I see…" It was a simple phrase but the syllables sent a shiver down the priest's spine. He felt the air shift and an awful sense of dread filled him. Immediately he knew that something he had said was a miscalculation, perhaps he had indeed overstepped his bounds. When the king continued, his displeasure was apparent. "Are you claiming that my reign is not pleasing to your god? That I should run from our enemies, debase myself before the realms of the living and dead, only to bow to the whims of peasants and gods alike?" Orakusakmet was standing now, arms gesturing broadly and voice booming with a practiced tone meant to use the echos of the room to instill fear. "What of my glory? Is not Pharaoh Egypt? Is it not I who guides the gods? For in me, Egypt rises or falls!"

"Of.. of course… of course my lord! I meant no disrespect!" Hamakto practically tripped over his words to divorce himself from his previous boldness. "My only wish is to see the land prosper. A healthy tribute to thy glory, that all the world might praise thee." The priest bowed even lower, hoping to placate the bruised ego before him. "For indeed, thy kingdom is the jewel of all civilizations. Others are but barbarians and children compared to the never ending glory that is Egypt and thou art greatest of all its Kings."

"Hmph. You priests have such flattering words, save them for your granite gods, for I have no need of them. All I need is for my subjects to know that they live or die by my will alone. Be sure that you remember your place better in the future, priest." He spat out the title as if it were a piece of rotten fruit. "And you, and all your kind, would do well to remember mine as well." Orakusakmet turned away from him then, dismissing Hamakto from his presence.

Counting himself lucky, but not really understanding exactly when the audience had taken such a turn for the worse, the dreamer backed slowly away, grateful for the opportunity to just leave.

"Hamakto." He paused and his eyes snapped to the dais where the Pharaoh stood, back still to him, but head turned to the side. "Never let it be said that Pharaoh does not listen to his citizens. Your words have been heard and should they prove prophetic, we shall remember thy name, and at that time you will reap the rewards or ramifications of this day. So shall it be written, so shall it be done."

Hamakto bowed once more in acknowledgement of the decree before turning and striding out the hall with as much dignity he could pull around him. Not until he returned to the temple complex and reached the seclusion of his own alcove did he allow himself to collapse and try to release the sense of dread that consumed him. He did not, however, seek the solace of sleep for two full days, he had enough of dreams for the time being.

The rhythm of the river moved the seasons along as Shemu began to draw to a close and the harvests were gathered in. The waters of the Nile receded enough to allow for the repair of the all important canals to prepare for the next flood. The ground began to dry and winds swept the desert dust into every building. Still, there was no indication that the horrors Hamato continued to see in his sleep were any closer to coming about. However, to say that the intervening months were uneventful would have been false.

Within the confines of the walls of Ra's temple, things were far from routine. Rumor was heard that the High Priest Faihoruko was called to attend the palace on multiple occasions, each time returning looking as pleased with himself as a freshly preened ibis. Soon there was an influx of new allocates, all young, fresh and eager to please. Those who should have risen in rank were passed over and given mundane duties or sent on assignment to other parts of the kingdom. Those who only served in the temple on a part-time basis were soon dismissed with the explanation that Ra required only those dedicated wholly to the craft.

Hamakto was kept busy with the daily business of prayers and offerings. The days he would have normally had to himself, at least two within every ten, were spent in the public forums, interpreting the dreams of patrons, for a price, and offering up prayers on their behalf. Normally he would have been pleased to have been kept engaged in his work, but this was excessive, and he could only feel that he was so occupied solely for the purpose of being keep out of the way.

Shemu passed quickly and gave way to Ahket, the river started to rise till it spilled its banks and he found he could take it no longer. All those whom he had once counted friends were sent away while his own travel plans were in danger of being waylaid, leaving him lonely and despondent. The priest was frustrated with the internal politics and also still troubled that he continued to have dreams about the turmoil that may befall the land. Hamakto was determined to see High Priest and get some answers.

It was late by the time he made his way to the fine apartments that were the residence of Faihoruko, nearly the second watch into Ra's journey into the underworld, a time that should guarantee some privacy for what was unlikely to be a pleasant conversation. He was about to sift aside the cloth that hung in the stone archway and granted privacy, ready to announce himself, when the hum of voices from the other side of the entryway made him pause. Shifting quietly he flattened himself on the side of the lintel, quickly extinguishing his oil lamp so that shadows would not be thrown across the fabric divider, he strained to hear the conversation.

"I assure you, my lord, all is safe."

"I have been warned that this course is dangerous."

"Is not the arrow a threat to those not drawing the bow? One can fear the weapon or use it to their advantage. Already, the children of Aten have proven their power. We have seen them create the forms of the gods from mere men."

"Yes, but can they be trusted?"

"It is not our place to question the whims of the gods, only to serve."

There was a growl of displeasure, and Hamakto crept into the room, needing to confirm with his eyes what his ears already told him. There standing in conference with Faihoruko was Pharaoh, standing close to a braiser where a small fire shined.

"Do not patronize me, priest. You serve whatever interest brings coin to your coffers, whether it be mine, the gods, or your own. For that alone, I should send you adrift on the Nile as an offering to Amut."

To his credit, the high priest did not cower at nor deny the accusation. He simply walked to a nearby table and started to prepare a concoction that Hamakto could not see, and continued the conversation with his back to Orakusakmet as if his life had not just been threatened. "Pharaoh is wise with eyes that see all. However I am not a threat to thy power. What better way to display the magnitude of thy greatness than to gain dominion over Aten's children. With this brew, they will be at your command." He turned to face Pharaoh again, a fluted vessel in one hand and a brass goblet in the other. "But if your grace is unwilling, I will be more than happy to become thy emissary." Hamakto could practically feel the slither of the priest's blatant manipulation and it elicited a shutter that traveled down his neck and back.

Pharoah Orakusakmet paused only briefly to consider the ramifications before grabbing the goblet and holding it out straight armed to the priest. "I agreed to leave my guards outside the temple and meet you alone but do not be fooled. Should anything befall me they know to whom I have gone to see this night. Now, if you still remain brave enough, pour."

Only the barest of grimaces creased the conniving brow, before bowing in supplication but with both arms still raised above his head, pouring a thick glowing mixture into the king's cup. "May the might of Pharaoh overcome all."

Hamakto's heart froze in fear, he knew that bluish-green liquid, that pulsating glow as well as the back of his own hand. This could not be happening. He had warned the king. He already ruled Egypt, but from what he could understand of their conversation it appeared that he also sought dominion over the gods. Could one person's lust for power be so great? Looking at the grim determined set of the ruler's face he saw the answer. He could not let this happen. He must save Orakusakmet from himself.

There was little time to act as a second hand came up to cradle the cup and pull it towards parted lip. A form leapt from the shadows and a small clay object was hurled with precision. The cup was ripped from noble hands and it contents splashed towards the shocked priest. The little lamp shattered on the nearby fire, the oil within causing it to roar to life and flames licked at an unprotected face. The sound of feet pounding on stones as they retreated from the temple was punctuated by the dual screams they left in their wake.


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of the gentle lapping of water against his thighs invaded his awareness, the soft rhythmic sound soothing him and drawing him back to himself away from the tortured visions, memories, and fearful flight. Hamakto could not forget that despite his intentions he was now in a very precarious position. By the very act of fleeing, he had condemned himself.  
Taking a steadying breath, he tried to think of what his next course of action should be. Ideally, he should talk to Pharaoh again, try to make him see reason, to understand the danger that was poised to overcome the land, but the priest knew it was a lost cause. He had seen the wonderment and lust for power that reflected in the ruler's eyes as he peered into the goblet that held the shimmering water. The same water that elicited such fear within the depths of his own soul.  
He had options. He was not without family and resources and though one could never really flee from Pharaoh, perhaps a bit of distance would be the best course for the time being. During the time of inundation, there was little for farmers to do and most would be subscribed to the building projects or the stone pits. Merchants, priests, and those of better fortune would be journeying to the many feasts and festivals throughout the country. The river was high, making travel both easy and abundant. It would not be hard for a single figure more to slip in amongst the crowd. In fact, he was sure of a least one person who would be happy if he made his already planned trip to Lower Egypt earlier than anticipated.  
The thought of seeing her again brought with it the peace to calm his rattled nerves. No matter what, she would be on his side, that thought alone bolstering him up with renewed hope. Enveloped in the thought of his heart's fondest desire, Hamakto did not register the ripple of water the opposite the river's natural rhythm.  
The stillness exploded, a bulky head broke the surface followed a sleek body, the water clinging to it glinting ominously in the moonlight. The impact of that monstrous form knocked the breath from him. Before he could fight back, he was immobilized by a strong coiling mass wrapping around his body, followed quickly by a sharp piercing pain in his shoulder.  
A evil laugh sounded in his ear. "You should know that no one escapes the master's wrath, you treacherous rat."  
"You fool." A deep rumbling voice came from beyond his line of sight. Not that it would have made much difference, the world was beginning to spin and tilt around the defeated priest. "We were commanded to bring him back alive."  
"Eh. I only used one fang. He should survive and if he doesn't…" The thick roped body released him unceremoniously to land in the mud with a splat. "... I will have done His Eminence a favor." The voice retreated, still laughing until it ended abruptly with a splash, the disrupted waters' wake rustling the nearby vegetation.  
A rumbling growl came from above him. "Always leaving me his messes to clean up." Hamakto looked towards that voice, trying to find a point to ground himself in a now shifting world. The priest locked onto a pair of golden pupiless orbs that were not meant for this world and the form they were attached to only confirmed that conclusion. His vision went black as Anubis' boney claw reach towards him and Hamakto's last thought was that he hoped when his heart was weighed on the jackel god's scale that it would be found worthy. 

0o0o0o0o0o0

Hamakto did not pass through the gates of the underworld, though only by the slightest of margins. It was several days later when he awoke, mouth dry and body sore, in a section of the temple that he recognized as being dedicated to healing. His russet skin was slick with oil and sweat, smelling of herbs with an undercurrent of sickness. He did not try to leave the bed and was soon attended to by two acolytes who made no attempt at conversation. He was allowed another day to rest, ensuring that he was indeed well enough to leave his bed. He was bathed, dressed in a clean belted shift and what jewelery had survived his encounters given back to him, make-up applied and given a decent meal. That was the end of kindnesses extended to him.  
He was pushed harshly through the corridors by guards that had a predatory air of anticipation about them. It did not take long to discover the reason behind their slick glee. He was beaten and kicked, to make sure he was appropriately quelled before his next appointment. Though he had seen worse scraps amongst overly energetic young boys, his recent poisoning left his body unable to cope with the rough treatment and found his legs momentarily unable to support him.  
The polished sandstone floor allowed for his bruised body to be dragged easily across the chamber to the raised dais where Pharaoh sat upon a golden couch, draped in the pelts of beasts from far-away lands. Hamakto was dropped abruptly but still managed to catch himself before his face connected with the unyielding stone. The room was filled with an almost oppressive silence, broken by his pained breathing, yet amplifying the small sounds that would otherwise go unnoticed. The rustle of feathers as a servant fanned, the buzz of flies as they sought to land on sweaty skin only to be chased away, the tantalizing flow of liquid being poured, the chink of metal against metal, the smooth glide of fabric as bodies shifted, and all around the sound of people holding their breath, waiting for the word of their master.  
"Leave us. All of you."  
The cacophony of sound was immediate as servants, guards, concubines, musicians, priests, and advisers all made haste to obey. The broken form took the opportunity to raise up onto his knees, a proper position of supplication when before the Lord of Lower and Upper Egypt, yet before he could lower his shaved head back to the ground the sheer white gauze of a delicate raiment filled his vision. The perfume that clung to the figure paused beside him was familiar, and he could not help but look up, hoping to dispel the new aching fear that had lodged in his gut. His eyes meet hers within their dark painted frames and fear consumed them both, petrified to find each other in these chambers and afraid that this would be the last time their paths would ever cross. Too quickly, she was torn from his side as a guard grabbed her shoulder and escorted her from the room. The last glimpse he was ever to catch of his beloved Tashket was of her struggles to return to him as the richly painted doors closed and her anguished cry reverberated through the hall.  
His lovely Tashket, she should have been dancing at a festival in Luxor, where, in a few weeks time he would have would have joined her. With her days of devotion complete, they would have wed and feasted there at the temple of Bast, under the first rays of Ra combining their deities and their lives before friends and family. How was it that she was here, in Giza, in Pharaoh's throne room? It didn't make sense, nothing was making sense. In defeat, he lowered his forehead to rest on the ground, his arms stretched out before him, bound at the wrists, altogether a mockery of the once tall proud man, priest of the sun god, seer of things to come and interpreter of dreams.  
The sound of harsh laughter filled the emptiness and reminded Hamakto that he was not alone. "So much spirit for a simple dancing girl. I shall enjoy taking tally of her talents. That is, of course, unless you object, for it seems you have some claim on the creature, Hamakto priest of Ra." Sandals of the highest workmanship colored gold and red filled his vision as he dared to raise his head but he knew better than to speak.  
A pregnant pause hung heavy in the air, as though the king was just waiting eagerly for the hint of defiance and when none came he huffed and walked back towards his throne. "Rise and and speak, your Pharaoh commands it."  
He was sluggish to respond, wishing to spare Tashket from the unnecessary attention. They had met many years ago, when he was just rising from the ranks of acolyte, his talent for visions and interpretation of dreams advancing him beyond his tender years. He had yet to choose for himself a wife, though his mother would have many young prospects to parade for him on the few occasions he had to travel to his families' home in the south. It was on one of these trips that he saw her, she was in an open court pressing oils, Ra beaming upon her face, making her glisten and shine, like the god himself had deemed her worthy of his attention. Then, pausing from her labors, she looked up, noticing Hamakto as well and graced him with a friendly smile. It was then that he committed his first sacrilege, for at that moment he knew that there would never be anything else in his life that would shine as bright as her.  
"If you had held your tongue this well the last time you were before me, perhaps your fortunes would not be as poor as they now are." Hamakto finally looked up at the god king and noticed the bandages covering one forearm and the left side of the ruler's face. The shock of seeing the pink of healing discolored skin peeking out from underneath, a bright contrast to the king's naturally brown complexion, caused the priest to gasp in realization.  
"Finally noticing your handiwork, eh? Fleeing into the night without a thought for the damage left in your wake. Thought you could run? Did you really think that you could escape me? I am Pharaoh!" The man rose from his seat and his voice was a booming echo in the space before going quiet again. "I had been content to leave you in peace, perhaps maybe even reward you for your oh so helpful vision. Now…" he traced a finger over his bandaged eye. "... well now things have changed."  
The priest felt his guts grow cold, never before had a simple phrase caused such unabating fear within him. Yet he could not stop himself from stammering out an explanation, something, anything that may divert Pharaoh's rage. "Myyy.. my l..lord.. the potion… I could not allow…"  
"And WHO do YOU think you are to give or take away Pharaoh's permission to do anything! Still, I am not entirely displeased with the outcome of your little stunt. THAT is the only reason that you still live."  
"I do not understand."  
"Of course you don't." Pharaoh descended once again and paced around the humbled priest who was hard put not to follow his path but keep his gaze focused ahead as the conversation continued. "I was not the only one you left a gift with that night. Faihoruko's potion was only partially successful in it's attempt to commune with the Aten. While he was elevated above man, able to discern one's innermost thoughts it also left him subjugated to their will." He snorted with derision. "Pharaoh will not bow to anyone but his eminence has now become emissary between us and they are powerful allies indeed. My name and glory will be greater than any before me with their assistance."  
Hamakto felt as if he was missing key bits of information that his eavesdropping had not included. "Who are these allies, my lord?" he whispered, a part of him terrified to know the answer, yet unable to stop himself from asking.  
Stopping in front of him, Orahkusakmet cocked a painted eyebrow. "Hmm, it appears that you do not know after all." The Pharaoh strode over to a brass shield suspended on a frame, took the hammer hung on the corner and struck the gong, the rich sound filling the audience chamber and seeping into the surrounding rooms. Within moments, a butler appeared and made haste to the king's side who whispered something in his ear before being dismissed.  
The air was silent, but oppressive. Ohrakusakmet climbed to the dais but did not return to his throne, instead choosing to remain standing with his back to his captive. Hamakto, for his part, tried to push the soreness invading his consciousness to the back, trying to piece over his knowledge and comprehend just what exactly was going on.  
Quietly, then with increasing vigor, the sound of ram's horns came from the back of the hall, advancing till a procession flowed around Hamakto, forming a circle around him. Two strong bearers carried a large stone slab, slung on strong wooden poles and lashed securely. In the middle of the stone was obsidian polished to a shine, it's darkness reflecting his own battered image. The circle of men began to chant softly and Faihoruko appeared, placing himself between Pharaoh and the stone, his back to his subordinate.  
"It seems that formal introductions are in order. Present him as tribute." Orakusakmet commanded and the high priest bowed in acknowledgment before turning to face the dream priest.  
The change in his appearance was subtle but apparent. The high priest's haughty countenance was even more pronounced, his arrogance prevalent on his wrinkled and sun darkened face, even as he sneered at his younger counterpart. His eyes were the most prominent change, they appeared sunken and hollow, strain that even his thick eye make-up could not mask, and where it had once been white was now clouded red, altogether giving the impression of madness and a lust for power.  
The chanting of the circle became more pronounced at some unbidden signal, forming into a prayer to Aten, with Faihoruko beginning a spell to bring the sun disk up from the underworld. It was a perversion of the the true text, for it was suppose to be Ra, as the rising Horus, who emerged into the world, then take on the form of the sun to bless the people with his light. Only a small moment was dedicated to these thoughts, for the ceremony progressed and the high priest produced a jagged crystal and with typical flare, held it high above his head before plunging it into the top of the stone where a hollow had been carved to hold it. The crystal glowed and then the obsidian shimmered, growing out from its center a small pink dot appeared then grew to encompass the dark disk, glowing and shimmering in those bright horrific shades that were known to him from his dreams.  
A set of strong hands forced Hamakto forward to kneel before the glowing disk, though his mind told him to run and flee, his body did not respond. The world fell away and he could no longer hear the spell being chanted, was not aware of the bodies surrounding him, or the gaze of Pharaoh from his golden perch, even the stone under his knees could not ground him to this world. There was only the rolling, shifting circle before his face and the pulsating thrum that accompanied it.  
Agonizingly slow, something began to emerge. It was pink, thin and fleshy, the tip pushing through then broadening out into a spade before narrowing again to a tubular appendage. The tentacle was soon joined by another, then another. The Aten fully formed before his eyes, glowing bright with long arms reaching, it was glorious and horrible.  
Hamakato could feel his heart pounding, wanting to flee from his chest, the terror of knowing what he had seen those arms do, squeezing his soul. Then a jagged toothed smile emerged framed in a pink face, a head soon followed that was wrinkled, the flesh in pronounced coils that looped in and around on itself. The grotesque feature reminding him of things that should be inside a body and not displayed outside it. Eyes of bright green snapped open, the yellow sun centered within them, marred by on the smallest pinprick of black, but completely filled with a malicious joy as the priest could no longer hold back his screams.  
Vaguely, underneath the echo of his fear reverberating through the chamber, Faihoruko could be heard pronouncing the verdict.  
"The Karaang finds the tribute worthy."


	3. Chapter 3

The walk down the barely lit corridor was slow and silent. Hamakto made no attempt to converse with the guards, to plead for leniency or release. It would make no difference, they were loyal to Pharaoh, as was he. It didn't matter that he had fallen out of favor with the king, it didn't change that Pharaoh was Egypt, and he would gladly give his life for his homeland. Though to be honest, a fair amount of his silence could be attributed to pure shock. Before his very eyes, Pharaoh had the head of his sect call forth the god Aten, the disk of Ra, and the sight of those reaching arms and jagged smile pulled straight from his nightly terrors had chilled him to his core. In a form of self preservation his mind refused to contemplate the ramifications of the correlation between what he witnessed and his penchant for prophecy. There would be plenty of time to worry over Egypt later, at the moment, he had his own problems to deal with.

They reached the end of the hall where a sturdy bolt was thrown back and the heavy wooden door was pulled open. The former priest, for he had no delusions that he would ever be restored to his position, walked into the cell with whatever dignity he had left. As the gateway to his old life was shut, he looked over his shoulder, taking a moment to mourn all that he had lost, his position, his honor and most damning, his love.

It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. It was night now and the only illumination was from a few beams of moonlight filtering in from the ventilation shafts. He was not surprised to find the perimeter of the room to be lined with bodies all curled in on themselves, claiming whatever space they could as their own for a fitful sleep on the hard ground. A quick scan showed that there was no room to make a place for himself along the wall without disturbing others, not a good way to start off his indeterminate stay. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, from the dull ache in his limbs and back he would likely sporting a fair amount of purple bruises on his normally russet skin. With no others option, he simply walked to the center of the cell and sank to the floor. Laying on his side and pillowing his head on his arms, he chanted a brief spell under his breath, still unable to relinquish the ingrained belief in benevolent deities, praying that they would keep him safe through the night, and let the weariness draw him under.

Before his eyes closed for a final time, he noticed a pile of small bodies huddled together for comfort and protection. They had also been forced to the center of the room, the moonlight illuminating faces taunt with fear, even as they slumbered. His heart fluttered briefly in sympathy, though it was not enough to pull him back from the edge of sleep. His last thoughts before succumbing to slumber were to wonder what mere children could have done to find themselves sharing in such dreary accommodations.

o0oOo0o

Hamakto found himself by the water and gazing inland. He could see people and animals in the fields, it was a scene that was comforting and familiar, easily a memory pulled from any number of days spent along the banks of a peaceful Nile. But turning back towards the river, his heart starting hammering with a familiar dread. The water was thick and glowing, and to his horror the animals left the fields and flocked to the bank, bending their heads to partake in the tainted liquid. As they did, ropes shot out from the depths and sought to pull them in, even as the sounds of their fearful struggle to be free filled his ears.

He was not imobile this time and sprang into action, running from creature to creature, tugging on the ropes trying to free the captured beasts before they were pulled into the defiled waters. The lion and the jackal were sucked in the simmering depths but the bull was left on the banks, tongue lolling out, obviously strangled by it's own attempts to resist being pulled into the strange waters. Unfortunately, it was not an uncommon result, as Hamakto's every attempt to salvage life was thwarted. Impotent, he sank to his knees as an overwhelming sense of sadness and loss consumed him.

So many times he had taken the lives of these very same creatures, whether for food or to sacrifice to the gods, and though not the most pleasant of tasks, never before had he felt emotional about it. Life and death, both realms were real and the passing from to another should not cause such trepidation. Now though, it was as if every life was connected to his own. He felt their fear, sensed them fade away and more horrible than anything else, once the glowing waters claimed its victims he somehow knew that they were being changed and twisted beyond his capacity to comprehend.

He lifted his eyes to scan the rippling surface as it slowly settled to a deadly calm stillness as its victims were dragged further beneath the rolling brightness. Yet as his gaze moved from the river to the bank, a slight movement caught his attention, he almost missed it, hidden as it was amongst the lush grass. Approaching cautiously, keeping one eye on the treacherous river, he looked into a natural hollow only to see four rounded moving stones. As he continued to stare, hieroglyphics became apparent in their surfaces but they did not cease moving, making it impossible for him to read. Finally, in frustration, Hamakto bent down and gathered up the stones hoping that if he could read the symbols individually. He would then be able to tease out a message and perhaps the meaning behind it. With the stones in the cradle of his left arm, he chose one at random, holding it in his free hand for closer inspection. Before he could do little more than recognize a few symbols, the glyphs for 'joy' and 'life' among them, a small blunt head poked out from the stone, quickly followed by four limbs and a stubby tail. What he held was clearly no longer a rock but a small turtle, a quick check confirmed that the other three 'stones' in his arms were also small squirming turtles.

His heart leapt, for what reason he knew not and could only surmise that he was glad the tiny creatures had escaped the cruel fate that awaited in the nearby befouled river waters.

With renewed interest he examined the little beast only to have his scrutiny returned. He looked into the eyes of the small hatchling and found intelligence there along with wonder. The more he looked the more he found himself unable to escape it's gaze. Those eyes consumed him, filled his own vision till nothing else existed and rather than become alarmed, he continued to search those orbs somehow knowing that here he would find his answers.

Hamakto blinked and the sleep he had fallen into was gone, but the eyes were not. He was instantly aware of his surroundings and the events of the previous night were sharp enough to cut away his tether to the images of his vision. He pawed and grasped at them, knowing that now, more than any other time in his life, he would need to depend on whatever insight his night sight would give him. One would think that a man who had built his life on a the messages only delivered during slumber would be accustomed to their whims. With so little of his world still in its proper order, the fallen priest clutched even tighter to this gift that had been bestowed upon him by the gods, whoever they were, and to have the precious visions subverted to the demands of awaking in unfamiliar territory was more than frustrating. Still as a pair of blue eyes continued to study him, he did all within his power to not show his annoyance. He was in a precarious situation and caution was always the most prudent course.

He blinked a few times and those azure orbs fluttered back at him in the same pattern. He repeated the action to receive the same result only to be accompanied by a childish giggle. Shifting slowly as to not startle his new little companion, Hamakto sat up and took in the form who was, moments ago, on hands and knees hovering over the priest while he slept, but had shifted to mirror the adult's cross-legged posture and was regarding him with a dimpled smile.

The child was a small boy, who appeared to be no more than seven or eight, rather dirty, but slightly rounded face framing eyes so pale blue it was as if a piece of the sky itself had found a place to rest. Beneath the layers of rusty sand streaks of pale flesh were visible on his cheeks, obvious evidence of tears that had not been wiped away before drying in crusty lines. His head was crowned with loosely curled locks that brushed the bottom of his chin, for the most part well cared for though at the moment alternately fluffed and matted in places from a fitful sleep, but the coloring creating a golden halo as Ra's first rays streamed through the vent above.

The overall effect made him appear vulnerable and in need of protection, but Hamakto could sense an unquenchable spirit within. Perhaps it was the ready smile and curious glint to his gaze, so out of context within the confines of cell walls.

"Well, blessings of the rising Ra to you, little one," Hamakto said with a smile and a quietly amused chuckle. Instead of the proper response to the morning greeting, the child just tilted his head from one angle to another haltingly as if to examine and assess the adult across from him. Apparently, Hamakto was deemed interesting enough and the child smiled even larger, revealing a few spaces empty from the loss of milk teeth.

"Egunon! Zein da zure izena? Nire anaiak deitu dit Mik, nahiz eta hori ez da benetan nire izena, baina ongi da. Gustatzen zait. Benetan egarri naiz. Arazoa da, ero izango dute off oinez badut. Baina zuk dira gertu . Ezin me edari bat lortu duzu?" The chatter was pure, sweet and utterly unintelligible as the child babbled boldly and then looked at the priest expectantly.

It was Hamakto's turn to study the boy with curiosity and more than a little confusion. It was obvious the child was trying to convey a message and the tone indicated some sort of request but the tongue was so foreign that he could not tease out it's meaning, despite the friendly delivery. This combined with the little one's slightly off features, Hamakto could now tell the child was not a native to the Nile lands. Deciding to take a different tact he spread his fingers and arms wide in an inviting manner and softened his features to appear less threatening. "Hello."

The child did not respond verbally this time but continued to examine the adult with curiosity. Soon his gaze was drawn to a wide bronze bracer on Hamakto's right wrist, one of the few pieces of jewelry that he had managed to retain, when the embedded sunstone glinted in the light. "Ohhhh…" The awe of fascination needed no interpretation. It warmed the priest's heart when the boy moved towards him with utter trust to examine the trinket.

"MI-KYKY!"

The space between them was suddenly blocked by another body and Hamakto drew his limbs back instinctively at the threat.

"Stay away!" It was unclear which one of them was being addressed. The little one was pushed back, squeaking and chittering at a rapid pace but otherwise ignored by his protector in favor of staring down the perceived threat.

Hamakto was sure that the intimidation he felt was mainly due to being on the floor while the youth stood above him, chest puffed out and doing a rather good impression of a being a tough guy. Finding that he was done being on the receiving end of threats, regardless of who they came from, the priest got to his feet using his not inconsiderable height to take back control of the situation. Seeing the adult rising up the short and stocky youth took a step back, eyes wide in his ebony face, but his scowl deepened and was accompanied by a low growl.

Nerves frayed, the temptation to take his frustration on the child was strong, but that thought itself kept him from doing so. Passing the pain along would not lessen his own burden, so he just allowed the standoff to continue, face kept purposefully blank till he could calm himself enough to be civil or the boy made a move. Neither option was allowed to play out.

Another boy, taller and older than the other two, interceded, approaching the scene with caution, putting himself between the angry child and imposing adult, eyeing both like they were cobras coiled and ready to strike. He gave a meaningful look to his companion before turning to address Hamakto "Forgive us sir, my friend was only looking out for the little one. It has been a rough couple of days for us."

It was then that Hamakto noticed the high pitched babble had stopped. Looking past the two immediately in front of him he saw that a fourth boy, probably around 10 or 11, had pulled the youngest further away from the confrontation. He held the smaller child around the shoulders and was whispering something, clearly trying to soothe him.

Eyes brimming with tears, obviously frightened by the exchange, he kept repeating the words 'edari' and 'sentitzen dut' till he was silenced by his own hiccups. It was enough for Hamakto to relent and relax his stance, taking a deep breath and softening his expression before addressing the oldest boy at the forefront of the group. "You are not the only ones. I meant no ill will." At this, the angry one shifted away to join the younger ones, though he still leveled a wary gaze at the priest. "He woke me and seemed to want something, though I could not understand what he was asking for."

He received a sympathetic look before the youth's gaze shifted to encompass those huddled together a few steps behind him. No words were exchanged, but the request for an interpretation was obvious. The quiet child looked almost pained as he responded in a tone laced with embarrassment. "I think he wanted a drink."

A simultaneous exasperated sigh arose from the two older boys and the priest. They all paused and the group looked at each other for a weighted moment before tension breaking laughter started slipping past their lips, little Mi-kyky included once he saw that no one was mad anymore.

The rest of those imprisoned with them began to stir at the noise and the priest motioned the children to settle down and seat themselves. He left them huddled together in the middle of the room as he examined the space. Near the door there were two large pots with a small stack of bowls nearby. By the smell, one pot had held hequet but was nearly empty, obviously the ration from the night before not yet replenished. The other held water, half-full, he was unsure of the purity of it but after sitting most of the night anything ominous should have settled to the bottom. He grabbed a couple bowls, skimming the top first to remove the dust and debris that often floated on top if vessels were uncapped, and filled them, making sure not to dip too low into the vessel or disturb the sentiment.

He returned to the little group, who were somewhat nervous now that the other adults in the room were stirring, some following the priests' example and others taking care of other bodily needs in a far corner. He sat himself down, taking a drink first before passing the sun-baked bowls off to be shared between the children.

"Now let us try this again. Good morning boys, my name is Hamakto."


	4. Chapter 4

Cover Art: mizu-inu - please view her amazing work! mizu-inu dot deviantart dot com

ooo00O00ooo

Over the next three days, the population of the cell was in a state of constant flux. The guards would bring in new prisoners and escort out others, many never to be seen again, while those that did return were often in a state of shock and awe. When asked most would simply state that they had been chosen as tribute and Hamakto needed no further explanations. He decided not to worry about what this all meant, but instead choose to spend the time learning about his new little companions.

Apparently his position as a priest did not hold much sway with the children. While the oldest gave him due deference he was not particularly forthcoming about their circumstances. His name was Lateef-pamu, the gentle lion, and it was obvious he was the leader of their little group. The priest would soon find they all went by shortened versions of their title names, given to them by the little foreigner, for he seemed either incapable or unwilling to refer to them by the longer ones. Lemu, as he was called, was followed in age by Dhouti-tnemei, meaning the sacred scribe of Thoth, shortened to Dhoune. Clearly this was not the child's birth name but an indication that he was a young acolyte, making his presence here even more of mystery. The angry child was appropriately named Ra-pacis or sacred bull of Ra, for he was solidly built and seemed to have the temperament of a raging beast when provoked. Rapi, for his part, had taken it upon himself to name the youngest one Mi-kyky, after the chittering monkey he unknowingly emulated. In more relaxed moments, they simply called him Mik, a moniker he happily responded to.

There was little else he could get out of them their first day together, besides their names. The children were obviously a concise unit and watched out for each other. As soon as it became available, they took up camp in a back corner, as far away from the guards as possible, but encouraging Hamakto to join them. He suspected that his presence was used more to validate their claim to the territory than to encourage friendship. He did not really mind though, for it gave him an excellent vantage point from which to observe them.

Lemu was diligent in making sure that everyone was safe, constantly scanning the room for threats, even when it appeared he was casually leaning against a wall. Much like he had with Hamakto earlier, the youth would run interference with any adult that seemed agitated by interaction with the children, being polite and differential to diffuse any situations that may arise. He also got to see the aftermath of such situations when Lemu would chide the little group, the boys bowing to his position of authority. Though Dhoune and Mik seemed perfectly fine with the hierarchy, Rapi would often balk at any suggestion he deemed unworthy of following. The disagreements were slight and resolved quickly but there seemed to be an underlying current of dissension between the two. Hostilities did not have the opportunity to flair often because most of Rapi's attention was spent on keeping Mik entertained and away from the shifting population of irritated adults.

The little scamp seemed to have boundless energy. After the initial fear of imprisonment had passed he took to flitting around the room, trying to talk to everyone in his foreign tongue. Apparently in the hopes that someone in the room would be able to engage him in conversation. The attempts were not often mutually appreciated, between Mi-kyky's enthusiasm and Rapi's protectiveness, plus the lack of clear communication, Lemu was hard-pressed to keep the pair out of trouble.

For his part Dhoune was content to sit near Hamakto, holding the claim on their little territory as the others roamed the larger space. He had found a shard of clay and was using it to scratch glyphs, diagrams and counting marks into the sand. It reminded Hamakto of his own days spent as a youth after instruction time in the temple, practicing segments of common spells to improve his speed and accuracy for the complicated hieroglyphics. However the intricate plans with their angles and tallies that blossomed on the bleak ground were leaps and bounds beyond his comprehension. The priest marveled as the boy would occasionally stop and ponder what he had written, then either add to it or wipe the area clean and start all over again.

When Mik was bored with his roaming or corralled by Rapi into settling down, the quiet boy would turn instructor. Dhoune drew pictures of animals and everyday objects, naming them and emphasizing their proper pronunciation, trying to get the youngest boy to repeat after him. It was fascinating to see the children teach each other, because it was a mutual process. Mik had found his own shard and would either draw his own rendition of the image, surprisingly well for his tender age, or make embellishments to the original. Only a fraction of the time would he adhere to the main point of the exercise, to teach him Egyptian. Mostly, he would proudly recite his own label, smiling happily when Dhoune repeated after him. However, the game could only hold his attention for so long before he wandered away to repeat the cycle.

The day came and went, they received adequate rations, including hequet, fresh water and a small loaf of bread for the end day meal. The night saw the cell more crowded than the previous day, having more than 50 men in a space that was only designed to hold 30. Lemu especially grew nervous as it became physically impossible to keep his charges isolated from the general population. They were practically in each other's laps as they nibbled on their bread, till Mi-kyky took matters into his own hands and actually crawled into the hollow of Hamakto's folded legs, then continuing his meal, pleased by his more comfortable accommodations. The other three boys held their breath, as if awaiting rejection, but visibly relaxed when the priest smiled and allowed the intrusion of his personal space. Before long, there was a warmth at Hamakto's side, glancing down he saw that Dhoune had scooted closer, quickly followed by Lemu on his other flank.

Rapi sat so that he faced them, his back to the room, completing the protective circle. He looked into the adult's face, silently searching before giving him a brief but firm nod. Somehow the priest understood that this small gesture had cost the youth a lot, but also bestowed on Hamakto a level of trust that was not often granted.

ooo00O00ooo

They awoke the next morning to the sound of guards yelling and tried vainly to extract themselves from the pile of tangled limbs they had become overnight. In the press of bodies shifting to arise Hamakto took the opportunity to move the boys into the corner, making sure they were as small as possible, placing his larger body in front to shield them from notice. The room was emptied of all its newest arrivals, leaving only a few men, all with the same hollow look of fear and awe marring their faces.

Once things settled down, the boys emerged and repeated the previous day's pattern, though with fewer outside sources to pester Mik kept closer to the other boys, using them as an outlet for his energy. He mostly goaded Rapi into roughhousing with him, who actually seemed to get as much joy out of the activity as the younger one. Hamkato observed with amusement but his bruised body twinged with sympathy at the more energetic tumbles. Lemu and Dhoune paid them no heed but moved off a ways to council with each other, conversing in low tones that they thought could not be overheard. They were discussing Hamakto and just how much he could be trusted. Apparently he passed whatever standard they had set because when they rejoined the priest, they began to ask him questions about his life and divulged details about their own.

The boys all worked on the construction sites of Pharaoh's various building projects. Lemu had come by the trade from his own father, whose end was meet through accident. With no other family, but a penchant for leadership, he was put in charge of the other boys who were also on site engaged in their own apprenticeships. Lemu took it upon himself to make sure that all those under his authority were kept safe, demanding obedience to his directions. Dhoune had been given up by his own family at a very young age to the temple of Thoth. Though technically still an acolyte, his skill meant that he had the workload of an adult. He toiled away for hours outlining, chiseling, and painting figures on the completed walls. Sometimes even fixing or improving the pulley systems used in construction. The two of them had known each other for a couple years, and with no other bonds, took to looking out for each other, like brothers.

Ra-pacis and Mi-kyky had joined them about six moons ago, though under much different circumstances. They were foreign slaves, given as both a responsibility and a privilege to the two outstanding youth. Rapi was from Kush in the south, taken as a concession of conquest, his exotic ebony skin making him desirable for the noble guards. His temperament however, made the assignment a poor match and he was soon sent to the quarry as punishment, hauling away debris. Mik was a mystery, appearing in the middle of the night in the wake of a merchant camel train. He was partnered with Rapi on water duty when the both of them were sent up from the quarry with a shipment of cut stone. It was he who brought them all together, by taking it upon himself to color in some of Dhoune's unfinished work. The foreman happened upon the aftermath and instead of being upset decided that Dhoune could use a little assistant and gifted the slave to the overworked youth, not knowing about the language barrier. So when Rapi was to be sent away with the work crews Mi-kyky went into a fit, clinging onto the sturdy child, and could not be consoled or pried away.

After a short consultation, Lemu and Dhoune resolved the issue on their own accord, offering to buy Rapi with their pooled resources. It was not unorthodox for workers of their status to have slaves, their age and circumstances however were a factor. Dhouti-tneme was a serf under the main scribes' house, his guardian had the means to keep a small slave. Lateef-pamu, while freeborn, had been orphaned for many years, living in the common barracks with its shifting population but always being sure to ingratiate himself to the right people. He argued that it was within his right to have his own space and pay that he had not claimed since his father's death, and that Dhoune's time would be better used in the camp than traveling back and forth to the worksite. Between the two of them, they could easily handle the younger boys. The foreman and the stone gang boss looked at them with trepidation but could see how determined they were and eventually a deal was struck. For three silver pieces, a heirloom necklace, two vases of aged wine and the promise of carving work to be done on a sarcophagus, their brotherhood was complete. They were given a small plot in the worker's village and within the week, under Dhoune's instruction, had a mud-brick hut of their own to call home.

It took most of the day to tease out the story, interrupted by play breaks where Mik had been extra insistent that the older ones joined, requests for information about Hamakto's own life and occasional stints where the young intellectual of the group would go off on tangents. It was amusing to hear him rant about how long it had taken him to train Mik to be a help more than a hinder or the exact units and techniques he had employed in building their home. By the close of the second day, the priest had a much better understanding of the children and the challenges they had overcome. All had lost family to fate, only to forge a new one with each other. It was a bond worthy protection and he could only hope that the gods would see fit to shade them with a benevolent hand.

ooo00O00ooo

The next day would prove his faith to be unfounded. The room was fairly empty now with only about a dozen other men confined within, leaving plenty of space for the boys to tumble about. They were so engaged when the door flew open and there was no time for them hide away. Hamakto had been lightly dozing in the mid-morning heat and before he could rise to their aid all four boys had been ushered out by the guards and the door securely latched again. He pounded on the wood futilely, calling after them, pleading for them to be brave, to be safe, knowing that they could no longer hear him.

He turned away and cursed himself. He had not revealed anything about his experience with the perverted sun-disk, the Karaang as Faihoruko had called it, content to ignore the commonality of those imprisoned here. Hamakto had been so happy to lose himself in the simple joy of being around the boys that his avoidance failed them. He should have prepared the boys, warned them what they would face. But how was he to know what would befall them, beyond that only those chosen as tribute would return to the cell? Maybe they would be spared the blessing, if not chosen they could be let free and return to their little house, live long productive lives together. Or they may just have their throats slit to ensure their silence.

The day dragged on, every time the door opened, he would look towards it in anticipation of them returning only to be disappointed. By the time the wings of Horus carried Ra to rest on his celestial barge for the night, the priest was in such despair that he no longer raised his head at the scraping of wood against the stone floor. The sound of a strangled cry as the only warning he had to brace himself for weight of a lanky body as it threw itself against him. He clutched onto Dhoune with a fierceness that surprised him, afraid to let go, even as he looked past the crying boys' shoulder for his brothers. Only to be confronted with the bleakness of their absence.

He was afraid to ask but knew that he had to. "Where... where are the others.?"

The youth who had been so impressive before, was reduced to a scared and needy child. He only shook his head and cried harder.

"Dhouti-tenemi, you must…" He swallowed hard to keep the waiver from his voice. "Tell me what you know."

The smallest whisper sounded in his ear, accompanied by a shuddering breath. "Me... they only wanted me."

"Did they set the others free?" He held onto this last shred of hope, till he felt the tremor that ran through the child's frame. Dhoune pulled back to look the adult in the eye. Pleading in his own way to be told that what he had just been through had not been not real.

"I… I didn't see. They said they were taking them to the river... to… to the place where the crocodiles gather."


	5. Chapter 5

Cover Art: mizu-inu - please view her amazing work! mizu-inu dot deviantart dot com

ooo00O00ooo

The next day there were nearly twenty prisoners, Hamakto and Dhoune included, marched out of the cell and across the open sands towards the temple complex. The trek was not particularly long, barely more than an hour, but still unpleasant under the bright heat of the midday sun. It had been a fretful night for the child walking next to him, the little scribe had fallen asleep crying and woken several times in the night screaming, so he was having trouble keeping up, stumbling often.

Hamakto was far from happy with what Dhoune had told him last night , the children had not deserved to meet with such an end. The seed of fear that had been planted upon his own experience with Aten - no he would not defile the Sun Disk by associating it with that creature - the Karaang, was quickly growing into hatred. He had always believed that, though they sometimes required appeasing, the gods in general wished well to their earth bound subjects. Even Set, who brought chaos and disaster to the land, had his place and would help the dead to rise through the Underworld. This Karaang sorted through people like wheat, only to throw them away as chaff if they were found lacking in some way, without proper rites and rituals. Even the animals he offered on occasion to Ra were cared for with the utmost respect, knowing that their role was sacred. The very idea that those precious boys had been cast into the river, at the mercy of Sobek's children, sickened him to a level he had never before known.

Soon enough a temple, newly constructed, rose up to greet them. They were all taken to a large ritual bath area, a sunken pool filled via a canal from the river. They were all instructed to strip, shave and bathe before entering the temple proper. Normally Hamakto found the idea of purification a soothing one, using the opportunity to center and refocus himself on deity. This was not one of those times. He went through the motions, gently guiding Dhoune to do the same. The boy offered no protest, knowing what was expected of him, his silent compliance masking the ache in his heart. They were offered no oils or make-up afterwards, entering into the temple proper clean, but clothed only in simple white linen

As they walked through the columned hall, Hamakto noticed that the walls had not yet been fully painted, but much of the art was sketched out. Accompanying many of the spells and phrases that he readily recognized, were blocky markings and images of Karaang in noble attire. During his face to face experience with the Karaang, he had not had the opportunity to truly examine it, overcome as he was by the experience, recognizing it only as the same being he had seen in his dreams. Seeing it in artistic profile helped him recognize what it reminded him of, a brain with tentacled limbs. It was beyond unnatural and any residual wonder he had had for the creature quickly dissolved into revoltion. Regardless of the role it held within the realm of the gods, the creature was ugly both body and soul.

As Hamakto reached this conclusion, their journey through the temple came to an end. At the end of a long hall they entered a massive chamber. It contained two levels with the center being open to the sky. The narrow second story landing contained dozens of man sized clay pots, a series of ropes and pulleys still attached to them after being hoisted into position. The middle of the floor was a large grate with several sturdy posts rising up from it at intervals, many with metal rings attached, the remnants of frayed ropes lay on the floors' checkered surface. Several tables were within the room, all piled with powders, plants and pots for holding various liquids, along with the instruments to combine and crush the components into potions. The back wall of the chamber was taken up by the caged and chained animals, the sound of their agitation and fear echoing off the walls.

He felt the child at his side clasp onto his hand, frantically searching for some comfort, but when Hamakto looked down Dhoune's eyes were not on him. Following his gaze, the priest had to keep from gasping his own shock but returned the pressure on his fingers firmly. Encompassing the wall to his left was a massive stylized carving of the Aten-Karaang, much like he had seen in his visions, with the largest obsidian face he had ever seen at its center. It was the same structure that he had seen in the Pharaoh's chambers, but on a much larger scale. The very possibility of what could come through that nightmarish stone was enough to chill his bones.

From a side chamber Faihoruko emerged, his acolytes following and then dispersing themselves around the room, this time without the pageantry he had employed in front the king. He simply gestured to the guards and they brought the first prisoner forward so that the priest could examine him. The man was tall and lanky, he kept twitching and looking around, like he was expecting even more trouble than he already had. The high priest looked him over intensely before giving a derisive snort.

"Barely worth the time. But he will make an adequate test subject to ensure that this batch will work properly." He went to the area where the animals were being held and thrust his hand into a loosely woven basket, the sound of soft fluttering and chirps could be heard, Faihoruko withdrew a his hand, holding a small pigeon.

"Secure the rest of the cattle, can't have them getting spooked and running off." Though he did not actually look in their direction the meaning was clear and the remaining prisoners found themselves bound at the wrists. To make sure they were secure, the guards lashed them in groups of four to metal rings firmly driven into multiple columns around the room. This was obviously not the first time such an event had occurred within these walls. The unfortunate soul who had been singled out was taken to one of the center posts and lashed upright about the chest, but with his arms free. Then Faihorako came forward and forced the bird in his palms, cloth thrown over to ensure it stayed, and bound the man's wrists overtop to complete the confinement of both. His helpers then brought the high priest a small clay bowl with a sort of paste inside that he used to mark the prisoner's body.

At this point, Hamakto held the utmost pity for the poor prisoner before them. He knew what the symbols being painted on the man meant, they were a plea to the gods to accept the sacrifice. He pulled Dhoune closer to him, shielding the boy from seeing what was going to happen next. To his surprise, no blade was forthcoming. Instead the area was cleared, leaving the bound bird and man alone in the center of the room. An anticipatory silence fell, even the previous noisy animals quiet as if sensing the danger, only the soft coos of the small fowl and desperate begging to be set free by the man holding it, broke the stillness.

"HOIST!" The loud command was an assault on the senses only to be punctuated by the familiar counted chant of one man directing a group of workers to keep them in rhythm. One of the large pots from the second story was being maneuvered through a series of ropes and pulleys to be suspended above the prisoner. Hamakto could see a faint glow coming from it, realization hit him as the pot was tipped, pouring its shining magical water down on the condemned.

The sounds of his screams set off the room, prisoners and animals alike responding to his terror. Hamakto could not tear himself away from looking, knowing now that he was seeing his own fate. Dhoune shifted and then stiffened in his arms. He knew the boy was looking, but he would do no more to spare him the vision. He deserved to know, the child would find no mercy here, it would be up to him how he chose to meet his future.

"Cleanse!" The command went out and the vessel was tilted back upright, the stabilizing ropes were tied off to a sturdy metal ring, so that several servants could come forward with vases and skins of untainted water. Pouring it everywhere liberally, making sure that the victim and the floor were free from the glowing water, efficiently sent through the grate to an unseen drain. Faihoruko stepped forward with two guards whom he motioned to raise the suffering man up for inspection. If it could be called a man any longer.

What had been born from that tainted water was all at once familiar and foreign to Hamakto's view of what should exist in this world. He had seen and written images like it everywhere in his life, but never expected to see it expressed in flesh. A creature, thought only to exist in the realm of the gods, with the body of a man and the head of an animal.

"Hmmm… it seems that we have found the right balance in the salve." The high priest looked back to the table where the acolytes were toiling to produce more of the substance. "At a bit more honey comb." He looked at the creature with a sneer of disdain, "The gods should not be this ugly." With a flick of his wrist the trio was dismissed. As the pigeon-man was marched past the others who would soon meet a similar end, his protruding eye caught Hamakato's gaze, pleading for some sort of help. There was nothing he could do, but he did not look away, lending his sympathy until the creature was gone from the chamber.

So distracted, he did not realize that Faihoruko had approached him until he was right in his face, causing the former priest to jump at the sudden intrusion of his personal space.

"Ahhh Hamakto… how is our favorite dreamer? I do hope we are meeting your "expectations" or is it possible you didn't see this coming." His laughter was mocking, obviously enjoying his subordinate's fall from grace.

Hamakto shifted so the young boy clinging to him was firmly behind him, though it was foolish to think that he could shield him from anything. He gathered all his determination and courage and faced Faihoruko with chest puffed and shoulders back, refusing to cower any longer. "You are a fool. All of Egypt will suffer because of these… beings."

"Ah… it seems you do not have faith in our new gods."

"These are not our gods."

"I can see now just how small your mind is Hamakto. But perhaps we can change that." Guards came forward and seized him arms, unwilling to go, quietly he struggled, but was quickly subdued when his still healing shoulder was wrenched back forcefully. Still attached to the column, Dhoune surged after him as much as his lead would allow. His youthful screams made Hamakto's chest clench tightly, but he did not look back. It was not death that he marched to and he must show the boy how to be brave, though he did not feel so in his heart.

He was lashed to the post and could not help but test his bonds, only to find them secure, and slumped against them. The world narrowed to the space just in from of him. He was facing the portal, his reflection clearly displayed in the darkened surface. He saw the high priest approaching from behind, a sacred bird of Ra on his now gloved hand, flapping wildly to maintain its balance while tethered. He heard Faihoruko cooing and talking gently to calm the creature. The dichotomy was sickening, he was comforting an animal while preparing to destroy a man's life.

"So you think I'm trying to destroy you? Oh no my friend. I only wish to give a great blessing." He tethered the falcon by its leash to an adjacent post only an arm's length away. The predatory bird settled at the top of the post and turned an appraising eye on the captive, tilting its head occasionally in a quick jerking motion. "All your life has been spent in service to the gods. Now I give the gift of becoming one with them. Come Hamakto, let us see your dedication to Ra."

Faihoruko went to the table to retrieve the newly concocted paste and approached again, intent on preparing him for the transformation. Before the high priest could begin the obsidian wall began to glow. Starting in the center a swirling magenta disk grew until it encased the entirety of the black glass.

"It appears that we are about to have company." He walked away pausing momentarily to set down the clay bowl with the salve and reach in a woven basket, tossing something back in the direction of his captive. Hamakto turned his head in an involuntary flinch as the falcon rose up to intercept the projectile. Settling down once again it happily tucked into its prize. Clutched in the sacred bird's sharp talons, a rat fat was picked apart and consumed. In its vigor to devour the meal the predator tossed it's head and flung the newly detected tail away from itself, to land with a slap against Hamakto's chest, before falling to the top of his bare foot. The dream priest rolled his eyes at the indignity of it all and shook his limb with mild disgust. The tail was dislodged from his foot to the floor before slipping in between the grate to the sewer below.

Looking back towards the glowing wall, Hamakto noticed that something was beginning to emerge. With a slow undulating moment some kind of slug-like creature made its way into the chamber. It was roughly the size of two bulls with small beady eyes. Upon its back were seated three of the Karaang beings. The one in front was holding onto two appendages that sprouted from the beast's head, directing it as any rider would a mount. The rear rider held a spear with a glowing tip. The being in the middle scanned the room until its gaze fell unto the high priest, then the skin in the mid-line of its head split and several flexible spines became erect. Two more mounts came through the portal, but they held two spear bearers instead of one.

Faihorako remained focused on the first group and touched a hand to the side of his head before bowing deeply. "Welcome my Lords. To what to we owe the pleasure."

No words were said but the priest looked as if he was engaged in a conversation. "The one who is smaller? Ah... yes." Faihoruko looked in the direction of the prisoners. "He does have an interesting mind." He paused again in an attitude of listening. "That would be Thoth, most noble one, for he is the god of knowledge and scribes, and I have an ibis amongst the menagerie. A most fitting choice indeed."

Hamakto's stomach began to clench as he listened to the one-sided conversation. Fear consumed him till it was horribly confirmed to be boiled away by anger.

"Bring forward the boy!"

"Nooo!" Hamakto screamed his defiance but it was quickly drowned out by an even more frightening roar.

At this point, after all he had been through, Hamakto had supposed that his capacity to be surprised was starting to wear thin. He was wrong.

Dropping down from the open ceiling, to land in the space separating the worm beasts from the prisoners, appeared Sobek. The king of the crocodiles was terrifying in his raging fury, causing all to shrink away from his presence. Hamakto did not have this option, but it would not have mattered, he was shocked still by the sight before him. For on the Lord of the Nile's back rode three very familiar boys.

From his perch atop the massive crocodile god's head Mi-kyky declared loudly in broken but bold Egyptian. "No Touch BROTHER!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Because I've had many asks about it Mi-kyky is speaking Basque. It is a language with roots that are over 7,000 years old and localized to a region between France and Spain. Here is the translation of his conversation from chapter 3. I thought it would be an interesting historical demographic to use as Mi-kyky's background and would make him standout as being a foreigner but still be plausible.
> 
> "Good morning! What is your name? My brothers call me Mik, even though that's not really my name, but it's ok. I like that. I'm really thirsty. The problem is they will be mad if I walk off. But you are near. Can you get me a drink?"
> 
> As always thanks for all the reviews, follows and favorites. Be sure to check out Mizu's deviant page and let her know that you like her cover art.


	6. Chapter 6

Cover Art: mizu-inu - please view her amazing work! mizu-inu dot deviantart dot com

ooo00O00ooo

All eyes were on the massive crocodile waiting for the first move. With a rumbling growl eliminating deep from Sobek's chest, a clear warning for everyone to stay put, he lowered himself on all fours and the boys slipped from his back. Once free of his passengers, the large reptile god rose again on his hind legs to fully display his might and majesty.

The boys immediately went to their brother, Mik knocking him down in his enthusiasm to embrace the older boy. Rapi balled his fists and sneered at the nearby adults, daring them to come near as Lemu began working on the knotted rope around Dhoune's wrists.

"I thought you were dead!" The lanky child's voice cracked and was laced with relief and agitation. He apparently was not fond of being confused and lacking in information.

"It looked that way for a while, but apparently the big guy over there didn't think we were dinner material. Now hold still, I can't get these off if you keep moving." Lemu's command was heeded and soon Dhoune was free to return Mi-kyky's affection. He laid a hand on the other boys but they did not stop their surveillance of the room to embrace him fully.

"Great, now let's get out of here." Rapi was backing up, ushering them towards their monstrous benefactor.

"What about the others? We can't just leave them."

"We came for you and now we need to get out of here while we still can." Rapi was becoming agitated with Dhoune's stubbornness and his own perception that their escape window was closing. The initial shock that Sobek had created upon his entrance was beginning to fade and despite his warning rumbles the guards were starting to move into positions that would garner them a strategic advantage over the larger animal-god.

Both boys turned their heads and looked to Lemu to tell them their next course of action. His piercing blue eyes scanned the room and with a deep breath he made his decision. "Rapi and I will free the prisoners. Like it or not, we're not getting out of here without a fight, we could use some more people on our side." Rapi scoffed a bit but didn't counter the order, instead turning to free the last man tethered to the same ring Dhoune and Hamakto had been. Once free the adult looked like he was going to run but a challenging glare from the fierce lad had him following Rapi to the next column to continue the emancipation of the other prisoners.

Lemu turned to the other two, obviously intent on giving them their own tasks when a maniacal laugh cut through the clamor.

"I don't think so, foolish boy. My claim is much more longstanding than yours!" He pointed a gnarled finger at the bound priest and sneered. "He has pledged his life to the gods and the gods will have him! CUT THE ROPE!"

Hamakto was unable to see everything from his vantage point but the scene played out before him as if he were viewing it from outside his own body. At the high priest's command, a guard took up his curved sword and with damning precision, cut through the ropes holding aloft the large pot above Hamakto. The distinct burning whistle of the rope as it pulled itself free from the rigging was a dreadful harmony to the high pitched sound of the boys scream. Sobek turned his head in the direction of the commotion, this momentary distraction was enough for two of the large worm creatures to advance on him, spurred into an undulating charge by their riders.

Though time seemed to slow down as Hamakto heard and saw all these things, unfortunately it could not be stopped. The frantic efforts of the falcon to extract itself from the tether that confined it to the nearby post were rewarded just as the priest felt the movement of displaced air ghost down the nape of his neck. The draft sent a loose feather, dislodged by the sacred bird's fight for freedom, that was drifting his way in the other direction. The sound of breaking clay filled his ears and caused him to hunch his shoulders instinctively, though it was a fruitless gesture of self-protection. The attached rope had caused the vessel to swing slightly behind where he was restrained so that he did not take a direct blow to the head. There was no sparing him from the contents however, a few splatters hit him about the shoulders as it fell, but upon the impact, his feet and calves were subjected to the thick glowing substance before disappearing sluggishly through the grate.

The sensation of the thick liquid making contact with his skin was surprisingly cool, but was quickly overpowered by a heat stronger than the middle of the hottest day at the height of the scorching dry season. It traveled in waves up his body leaving millions of points of stabbing pain along the way. No longer in control of his actions, he writhed in his misery until the bonds that held him upright were broken and he fell listlessly to the floor.

Hamakto curled and rolled to his side, desperate to ease the pain that was consuming him. It was a counterproductive endeavor because everywhere the thick substance pooled and clung, the cooling burn would intensify as he made contact with it. He felt his body start to change, propelling his transformation into something new and terrifying. Bones shifted in and out of alignment, senses flickered out before coming back sharper and more intense than he had ever experienced before.

Caught in the windstorm of sensory input the priest prayed for the solace of blackness that could pull him away from the pain. He hoped for the veil of sleep to overshadow him, to bring him the peace of the visions that he was accustomed to dealing with. He felt the dark there, creeping at the edges of his vision and welcomed it. Just as he was about fall into the arms of Kuk, give himself over to the primordial emptiness, the awareness of his own mind became as clear as the other senses he had tried to get away from.

Something here had also changed, thoughts and impulses that were not his own pervaded every corner. He had the overwhelming urge to bite, claw, destroy and flee. Everything was now painted with wide swathes of suspicion, that he would forever be hunted and that never again could anything be trusted. It made sense, all that he had been taught and believed in could no longer be accepted with the faith he had once had. Every aspect of his life had been torn apart and there was no escape. The temptation to give into his ultimate defeat was strong. They had taken everything else, why not let them have his mind as well, what use was it to him anymore?

The splash of water, actual water, drenching his new form was like a slap to the face. He shook his head and flattened his ears against the frantic cries being directed at him.

"Ha... Hamakto… HAMAKTO!"

His first instinct was to attack then to flee. Growling in his chest, he began to raise an arm, the sharp ended fingers stiff and clawed, braced for the impact of inflicting a damaging blow. Then he lifted his head to look at his intended target and all thoughts of doing harm left him. Dhoune stood panting with an empty clay pot in his hands, small drops of water still falling from its lip to meet the damp floor. Mik stood behind the older boy, his own vessel abandoned at their feet but eyes brimming with unshed tears. Though obviously scared, he held himself strong, a firm determination ebbed from his small body as he looked at the fallen priest.

"You... they... why would they?" Hamakto could hear the confusion in Dhoune's voice before the youth took a steadying breath. "Are you alright?"

He was not alright. Nothing about this entire situation was right. Now was not the time to dwell on it though. The telltale nell of an alarm gong was ringing in the distance and all around the clash of metal, the grunting of soldiers, and the cries of sacred animals and wounded men reverberated off of the chamber walls. The infliction of his own personal fate had been enough of a distraction for the guards and Karaang riders to launch an attack.

There was little organization to the melee going on around them. The Karaang had honed in on Sobek, using two of their fleshy beasts, with their flowered maws, to keep the crocodile's attention. The third tried to flank him but was prevented from doing so by the occasional hit from the Nile god's solid tail that he wielded with precision. The only humans near them were Faihoruko and a few guards with lengths of rope, waiting for their opening to lash the great beast. All others were happy to give the large and terrifying creatures a wide berth.

Rapi was with a group of about five prisoners, they were attempting to barricade the main doors to the chamber. Two others came to them with an overturned potion table and a scramble ensued to brace it against the door before throwing all their weight against the repurposed furniture to bolster it. The occasional forceful inward buckle of the doors would push against their strained effort and was an omen that not so friendly reinforcements were on the way.

The remainder of the room was consumed by the sounds of men engaged in individual battle. The contingent of guards were being slowly reduced. The prisoners who had chosen to stand against them were those well acquainted with long hours of backs put to either field or stone. Hardened against pain by the tempering of a hard life, they took their blows well and returned them with strength aided by the keen awareness that they were fighting to acquire their freedom and retain their humanity.

Lemu had placed himself apart from Hamakto and the other two boys. Positioned to defend them should anyone attempt to attack. It was a fair assumption that the dangerous blue-green sludge, the last of which now escaping into the sewer below, had effectively kept the others at bay. With that measure of protection now gone, it would not be long before Hamakto would become a target. Lemu stood ready to rebuff all who wished them ill with a curved khospesh, most likely retrieved from a fallen guard, the sickled sword almost too heavy for him as it was held shakily in an inexperienced two handed grip. Despite his obvious unfamiliarity with the weapon, his rigid ready stance and intense gaze gave off an intimidating presence for a boy barely removed from childhood.

His scan of the room was interrupted by the blurry vision of Dhoune's face before his eyes refocused enough to bring the worried youth's visage, so close to his own, into proper alignment. "Hamakto. Can you hear me? Can… can you understand me?" Mik accentuated the other's questioning with a small whimper of fear.

"I hear you, Dhoune." A small smile of relief graced the boys' faces and the sight of it solidified Hamakto's resolve. These children were precious and regardless of what would befall him now, they must get to safety. Bracing himself against the soreness and lingering pain still coursing through his body, the priest haunched his frame and gathered his limbs underneath him. In an instant, he took in the brown furred legs, the pink clawed feet and thick tail twitching intermittently to the left of him, to be his own. He almost laughed at the irony of it as he stood. Faihoruko had sought to transform him into a mocking representation of Ra, to be used in some way for their treacherous plans. Yet, instead of feathers and a beak, he had sprouted fur and whiskers. In an oddly comforting way, he was glad to have been spared from such blasphemy, even if the alternative was to become vermin. A rat. A creature so worthless and despised as to only become of any value when offering up its body as sustenance.

Now was not the time for self reflection, the door was close to collapse and already a few ropes were looped around Sobek's body. It was not a good sign even if he had already thrown off those attempting to hold the other ends in a weak effort to quell the raging god. Hamakto held up a now four finger hand to placate the worried boys, letting them know his desire for pause from their questioning as he scanned the room again, searching for an avenue of escape.

Something slight and almost indistinguishable stirred a small patch of fur somewhere towards the top rear of his left shoulder. In another time, he would have examined how very odd it was that his new pelt existed as whole while still allowing him a perception of each individual hair with a depth that exceeded any he had experienced before. For the moment it was enough that it drew his attention to the back wall near the stacked cages. There a hanging cloth flapped against the otherwise solid wall, indicating an air shaft through which the breeze was travelling. It meant a way out.

He turned and addressed Dhoune with a confidence that he did not entirely feel but knew that he needed to convey if the children were going to follow his instructions without hesitation. "Hide under there and wait for me to return." He pointed to one of the few tables that had not been sacrificed to effort of barricading the door, most likely because it was thin and ornamental, holding the more ceremonial accoutrements needed during a ritual, and would have added little to the overall endeavor. "I believe there is a shaft to the outside but I need to make sure it is safe." It would do them little good if the tunnel narrowed down to impassable with all of them already stuck inside.

The youth nodded his approval of the plan and seemed relieved to have a course of action to follow. "I'll get the others."

"No, take Mi-kyky and get under cover."

Dhoune gave him a small frown but acquiesced. He grabbed the youngest's hand and made to move when the child balked at the action. Solidly planting himself, a pout firmly in place on his face, Mi-kyky refused to budge. Looking upward in exasperation his elder brother sighed heavily. "Oh, please not now. We've got to go Mik." Frustrated he chastised the smaller boy in his own language. "Mugito, ORAIN!" He tugged on the child's hand only to have it yanked out of his grasp.

"Mik hear. Dhoune wait." The little one looked up at the taller boy with an angry frown before moving around him to place himself squarely in front of that rat that had only a few days ago been the man he had smiled at while asking for a drink of water. With a crooked finger he beckoned the priest down to his level.

Hamakto complied without much hesitation. He needed the boy to cooperate and felt it would move things along faster if he humored the child. Mik, with only the smallest hesitation, placed his hands on either side of the priest's newly acquired muzzle. After a quick scan of the furry visage, he settled on looking into the adult's eyes. The mere slip of a boy, so deceptively innocent in appearance as to be mistaken for weak, held the priest's gaze with a power the man would not have believed had he not been in the middle of experiencing it. The child seemed to be searching his very soul while a depth he didn't understand was reflected in the child's own sky blue eyes. Then, like the rising of Ra on the horizon, Mi-kyky smiled and the spell dissipated.

"See you now. Missing part of us." If possible, his smile became even wider as he dropped his hands and turned back to grasp his brother's arm and run towards the hiding spot. However, not before he turned, grin still in place , and called one last time to the priest over his shoulder. "Be safe, Neb-it."

If Hamakto had not already fallen under the enchantment that child had cast upon his other adopted family, he had now. The feeling of a bond, deeper and more encompassing than any other he had ever felt, save only one other, was firmly entrenched. Whether it was some fluke of language, the terminology gone askew in its translation, or if the boy had been purposeful in the title he had bestowed, mattered little to the priest. Mi-kyky had called him Neb-it, Lord-father, all at once bestowing him with formal familiarity and a prestigious place within their little group. The rat who had once been man, now lost to the rest of his world had, in that single small gesture, been given a place and a purpose once more. The warmth of it chased away they last vestiges of pain and despair.

With a renewed vigor and determination he made his way towards Lemu to relay the plan. The youth was already looking in his direction, following the path of his brothers' retreating forms. As Hamakto reached him, the unspoken questions in his eyes fell away to fear as the unmistakable sound of cracking wood echoed through the chamber.

Both turned their heads in horror, just in time to see the splintering devastation that marked their eventual doom. The door was breached.


	7. Chapter 7

As one Lemu and Hamakto moved forward, they had no hope of standing against the mass of trained men that had started to make their way into the chamber, but that was not their common objective. Those who had been engaged in the ultimately futile endeavor to stave off the reinforcements, were thrown back by the final forceful push, Rapi among them. In the short time it took for them to cross the space, their way had already been blocked.

This time, the priest did not hesitate to follow his instincts. With a bounding leap he evaded the spear leveled at him and landed heavily on its wielder's chest. With a vengeance he did not know he possessed, he raked his sharpened nails across the man's face. The sharp peel of pain he elicited from his opponent was all at once satisfying and shocking. Upon examining his now bloodied hand he felt a heavy roll in his gut as a chunk of skin and meat that did not belong to him fell from the tip of the claw. He jumped back to his feet, appalled at what he had done, as the man cradled his head and started to crawl away from the danger.

"Auugghh..." The pained grunt brought the priest out of himself and back into the fight. Lemu was on the ground, struggling to stop his own blade from being pressed into his throat by the soldier who had him pinned. Ignoring the trepidation he had felt just seconds before he gathered up the fallen spear and plunged it into the man's back, twisting the pole sharply so that the man would fall to the side, avoiding crushing the boy under his now dead weight.

A thin trail of blood was evident on the boys' neck from where the blade nicked his throat. Just a fraction deeper and he very easy could have bleed out. Hamakto took the weapon from him with one hand and helped Lemu up with the other.

"Thanks." The youth said abashedly, almost as if was embarrassed not to have dealt with his opponent on his own.

"Let's get Ra-pacis and make our way back to the others." Lemu nodded his agreement and the priest felt the swell of pride that he was ready to get back into the fray despite his close call. "Stay close."

Hamakto caught some movement to his left and swung quickly, prepared to defend himself and Lemu. Two men were headed towards the corner, weapons ready and focused on a target. The depth of shadows made it difficult to identify what is was they were in pursuit of, then with a blink his new eyes adjusted and the torch light went from dim to almost dazzling. He could now see the stocky ebony child, low to the ground slowly moving away from the door, one arm clutched tightly to his chest, unaware of the adults coming upon him.

The priest felt anger rising up from deep within, flooding his veins, giving him strength. It was one thing to fulfill orders and engage in battle with grown men but to stalk a child, especially one in obvious distress, was a yell he charged, immediately drawing the attention of the soldiers, with instincts honed through the practice of their craft, they turned to face him, easily recognizing him as the greater threat. Bending low in his charge, he was able to swipe boldly at the first man. The leather and metal armor the soldier wore deflected the blow from anything vital, but he could felt the resistance as his blade slide into flesh and the painful cry that followed told Hamakto that his strike had not been in vain. Not stopping, he used what was left of his momentum to barrel into the second fighter, knocking them both weaponless in the process.

Unmeasurable moments elapsed as the two tumbled, grappling to gain the upper hand. His opponent was experienced and overcame the rat-man's' rage fueled efforts to incapacitate him. Hamakto was pinned underneath the other's bulk and frantic attempts to buck him off were fruitless.

"What, in the name of Horus, is it?" The man looked down at Hamakto with awed fear but did not weaken his hold one fraction, aware that his strength was the only thing keeping him safe. The effort of keeping the transformed priest pinned caused beads of sweat to run down his face, smudging the extended edge of his painted eyes.

"IT" The rat-man growled, the anger he felt at insult spurring him on. "is your doom!" Though his arms and legs were confined his elongated neck and muzzle gave him the reach he needed. Rocking forward his chiseled teeth found purchase in the flesh of an exposed shoulder and sunk deep till the tang of coppery blood hit his tongue. The man pinning him screamed and released his hold and instantly Hamakto did the same, then gathered his legs close, bunching powerful thighs and planting his long feet on the other's mid-section. With a mighty thrust Hamakto kicked him away, sending the man careening into the wall, watching with satisfaction as he slide to the floor in a crumbled heap.

Scanning frantically he found Lemu at Ra-pacis' side helping the youth to his feet. Gathering up his discarded blade, he noticed that his first combatant was unconscious on the ground, thigh bleeding sluggishly but it was more likely the large chunk of stone by his temple was the cause of what would probably become an eternal sleep. In another lifetime he would stop, bind up the wounds or at the very least initiate the first prayers his soul would need to navigate the next world. That priest was gone. Hamakto joined the two boys without sparing another glance for the men who had threatened a child in the first place.

"Rapi's hurt!" Lemu called to him as soon as he was close enough to be heard. The priest checked the room, and though there was plenty of commotion, they were sheltered from it for the moment. He lowered himself to one knee so that he was on the same level as the children.

"Will you let me see?" he asked Rapi, keeping his voice soft though he was worried to see the hand hiding the wound near the child's heart. Tears of pain were noticeable in the little protectors' eyes though he was trying his best not to let them fall. "Please." With a nod the child dropped his hand to the side only to have it tucked inside his brother's, Lemu smiling down at him and squeezing it in a show of support.

The priest let out the breath he didn't know he was holding in a puff. It wasn't as bad as he feared. There was a sizable chunk of wood, most likely from the now broken door, lodged in his chest. The good news was that it was not bleeding very much and was not over his heart, falling a little higher towards his shoulder, but not by much. It was mostly likely the dense muscle the youth had acquired through enforced labor that had kept the shard from piercing deeper into his body.

"What? This little splinter?" Hamakto smiled and winked in an effort to disarm them from the seriousness of the injury. He ripped a long strips from the bottom of the linens girded about him and wrapped them over the wound without removing the embedded shrapnel. Rapi winched and gripped Lemu's hand harder as the bandage was tightened, binding him arm close to his body to prevent further harm and then knotted securely at his shoulder. "We'll take care this after we've gathered up the others and gotten them safe." Though the wound was worrisome, the child was not in immediate danger and he would prefer to wait till later when he could attend to the injury properly. Besides he would rather have a skin or two of stout wine into the boy, if the impalement was deeper than he supposed it would be a painful extraction, it would be better for all if Rapi wasn't fully aware during the procedure.

The mention of the other boys had a rallying effect on the little warrior as the adult had hoped it would. Rapi released Lemu's hand and wiped at his eyes, unitentionally smearing a swath of his own blood across his face. He reached down with his good hand and grabbed a ceremonial ankh from the scattered debris on the floor. The long portion had broken jaggedly along the length to create a short, but effective, stabbing weapon. He slipped his hand into the oval and curled his fingers around the short cross brace, holding the religious tool upside down, it was crude but could prove useful in a close encounter should he need to defend himself. "Let's go!"

Hamakto nodded his agreement. He picked up hatchet, a spoil from their defeated foe, and gave it to Lemu, bending down to speak to him alone. "Let no more harm come to your brother." As the rat-man stood and saw the look of determination on the oldest boy's face, Hamakto knew that Lemu would fulfill his duty in keeping Rapi safe.

Lemu stepped to Rapi's side, holding tightly to his small axe, prepared to guard the younger's injured flank. "Ready!"

Despite their dire circumstances, Hamakto could feel a smile of pride curving up the sides of his muzzle. These boys were remarkable and he would do all he could to protect them. Turning around he stood in front of them, ready to clear their path.

He could see more guards were entering the chamber and all chances of regaining control of the doorway were beyond hope. Several of the prisoners were dead, their bodies pushed haphazardly out the way. He could see a small group of soldiers, on the opposite side of the broken door from them, attending the wounds of their comrades, among them were a few of the prisoners on their knees tightly bound. The center space was occupied by the battle between Sobek and the worm steeds. One of which was unmoving, a massive chunk of flesh missing from it's side, green and clear fluids spilling from the wound to pool on the ground before trickling towards the nearby floor grates.

Their best option was to skirt the center, taking a longer route to make their way to where Dhoune and Mik were hidden. With that intent he looked back, signally the boys with a nod, and began moving swiftly along the outer wall. The boys were close behind with Rapi sheltered by stone on one side and Lemu on the other. A bowman was attracted to the movement and after the first bolt flew past his head, Hamakto urged the boys forward and took up the outside rear position to cover their flight, swinging wide to deflect what arrows he could, ducking behind columns whenever possible. Staying low Rapi and Lemu avoided being hit by the barrage and before long had made it to the opposite side of the large chamber. The frequency and power of the arrows began to drop off, the archer either reaching the end of his range or becoming occupied by a more pressing target.

Hamakto joined the two youths as they sheltered behind the last column. Across the room, in the opposite corner he could just make out Mik and Dhoune huddled together underneath the table, large baskets dragged in place to shield them from view of the other combatants. They must have tracked their brothers because they were now motioning to the other three to join them with pleading hand gestures, frantic and scared looks on their young faces.

A loud angry and pained roar reverberated through the room, instantly drawing everyone's attention. A large spear was lodged in the river god's side, he batted away those who had tried to take advantage of his momentary lapse before removing the weapon with a strained grunt. Mi-kyky could be heard screaming in the momentary silence and Dhoune was physically restraining him from going to the crocodile's aid. Sobek looked towards the sound before swinging his great head to meet Hamakto's gaze. The rat fought down the panic at being the focus of the predators' attention and forced himself to meet the reptilian gaze. There was a softness and pleading there that he did not expect.

"Go!" He clearly heard the rumbling command, though Hamakto was sure had he still been human it would not have reached his ears. "Protect them." His voice was intense, but tender, as he looked towards Mik once more before the eyes blanked white and he turned away, throwing the spear, coated with his own blood at the group men now arrayed to face him in battle. If he had the time, the priest would ponder over the loyalty these boys were able to instill in such a short time as to gain such a powerful protector as Sobek. Experiencing it himself, he knew it to be true and would do all he could to honor the river gods' sacrifice.

"We should be fighting with him," he heard Rapi growl at his side.

"No," Lemu countered. "We need to get out of here while we can. But..." The priest looked to the boy and then followed his line of sight as he contemplated the cages and tethered animals that filled the back wall that separated them from their brothers. "... maybe we can offer a distraction."

Rapi gave a satisfied smirk and when Lemu looked to him for approval, the rat nodded his consent. Without any further discussion, the three of them set to opening the cages and cutting the restraining ropes on the larger animals, working them into a frenzy and directing them towards the other end of the room. With a sense of satisfaction, the priest yelped and swatted at the rear of a rhino, sending it's fear-fueled charge directly into the amassed soldiers.

The room was in utter chaos, and though Sobek did not receive a full reprieve from the assault he was under, at least the full brunt of the armed force was not conspired against him. Once all the animals were free and Hamakto had warded of the leopard that had come at him, the family rejoined at last. Knowing their time was limited, the priest wasted no time in relaying his plan and organizing their escape.

"There is vent in the wall. I will check to make sure it is wide enough for us to get out then come back for you," he said to the group before addressing Dhoune directly. The lanky youth had passed Mik off to Lemu to comfort while he fretted over Rapi whose wound was bleeding through the dressing. "Are you familiar with the 'Healing of Osiris' scroll?"

"I've copied it several times in my learning exercises," Dhoune responded, nodding his head rapidly in affirmation.

"Do you remember any of the potions or treatments?"

"I can perfectly recall anything I've written more than once." It was said as a simple statement with no tone of boasting whatsoever. Given what Hamakto had seen of the child's mental abilities he had no reason to doubt it.

"Good." He grabbed a bowl made out a turtle's shell from the top of the table and held it out to him while gesturing to the other ingredients laid out. "Mix a 'Drought for Pain' and make Rapi drink it. Then gather everything to make 'Poultice for the Creeping Wound' so we can treat him later."

"Ok. I think I know what do." Dhoune sounded nervous as he took the mixing bowl from the priest but there was a determination bolstered by knowledge and the desire to help his adopted brother.

"Mi-kyky help Rapi!" came the chirping demand from the youngest boy.

Dhoune passed him the turtle shell. "Here, you hold this for me and we'll make him all better." The rat smiled at the skill in which the elder handled the younger child.

The priest left then, determined to secure their escape. He found the vented tunnel but could not see daylight, meaning there was at least one turn before it reached the outside. With speed he was unaware he possessed, he scrambled on all fours into the small shaft and followed it. The main length ended abruptly and his fear of it not being a true exit was close to coming true. However the narrow tunnel veered up sharply and within two lengths of his body was a shaft of light. A few exterior blocks had not been set properly and had caused a crack that had not yet been sealed.

He scrambled up, bracing his body against the confines of the stone vent and gaining purchase with his sharpened nails. With a heave of powerful leg muscles, he pushed and strained till by small increments the flawed stone began to give way. With a sudden final slide, the weakened portion of the wall fell away to expose a view of the wide desert expanse, a line of green cutting through the landscape as the canal traced back towards the Nile. Looking down, the distance was not so great that he feared injury jumping and with just a length of rope he was sure that all the children could be lowered to safety. Satisfied he raced back to the chamber to retrieve his charges.

He emerged from the wall noting that battles of man and beasts still raged. Looking towards the table where he had left the children they still seemed free from attack. Lemu was kneeling next to Rapi holding the shelled bowl to his lips encouraging him to drink. However, from the stout youths' grimace and occasional fight to pull away, the task was not proving a pleasant one. Mik was holding a reed basket nearby that Dhoune was loading supplies into.

Before Hamakto could make a move to join them, a high pitch squeel cut through the air, joined quickly by sounds so terrifying that he could not identify what made them. Though he soon found his answer as one of the fleshly worm mounts flew through the air and hit the wall to the side of the portal with ground shaking force. Unfortunately, the ground was not the only thing shaken. On the walk above, the filled pots began to rattle and tip till the inevitable happened and one knocked into its neighbor so hard that a wave of disaster was set into motion. Heading straight towards the boys.

The rat ran, too slow, he knew, before he took the first step, to stop anything. Too slow to prevent the inevitable. Too slow to stop the poisoned water from flowing down as the cries of the innocent filled the air.


	8. Chapter 8

The cascade of glowing green-blue water shielded the children from his immediate view. Before he could cover even half the distance to them, the tide from the now multiple broken pots leached sluggishly over the floor and the rat-priest was forced to scramble up one of the stone columns to avoid a second contact with it. From his now higher vantage point, he had no problem seeing the results once the deluge had ceased and it broke his heart.

In the space where the boys had been, he could now see four large patterned stones. But he knew they were not as they first appeared because they rocked and moved, sluggishly at first then with more vigor, as an egg ready to burst forth with new life. Then with trepidation a leaf green, appendages began to emerge and Hamakto was struck with a remembrance of the vision he had the first night he was cast into prison. As arms, legs, and heads began to appear from the shelled torsos the priest knew that the boys had all become turtles, and that it was by his own hand that their new form had been set. Jumping down from his perch to a clear space, he went to a water trough that had been used for the menagerie and filled two buckets he found there. With his heart in his throat he raced to the children, jumping from one pile of debris to another in order to avoid the tainted ground.

Once he reached the children he poured the water over and around them, hoping it would bring them relief from the burning and cleanse the space so that he could examine them closer. Three of the boys sputtered and fussed at the treatment before taking each other in, wonderment in their new eyes at the change that hand come upon them. They didn't speak at first, just stretched their limbs and examined themselves and each other with curious fingers, of which they all now had only three on each hand.

Finally the smallest of them looked at Hamakto, blue eyes wide. "Zer?" he said in Mi-kyky's youthful voice before turning again to his nearest brother and running his hand over the textured shell that replaced where skin and a muscled back had once been. "Dortoka?"

Though Hamakto wanted to sweep little Mik up in his arms, regardless of his changed form and possibly even more so because of it, and comfort the boy, his attention was drawn elsewhere. While three of the boys were slowly adjusting and discovering their new existence, one had still not emerged. From the stained bandages draped loosely across his now armored body the priest knew that it Ra-pacis.

With careful movements and gentle hands the rat-man went to the little shelled body and drew the hidden turtle boy into his arms as he sat on the ground. For a moment he was fearful that the child had not survived the change but the barely perceptible rise and fall of the sand colored plates that covered the child's chest and torso told him otherwise. The bandages had come loose from the shoulder because the form they had bound no longer existed. Hamakto could see that wound was still there, though it had changed and shifted so that the impaling wood had pushed up, in and thru at an angle so that it was embedded in the front plate and the edge of the rounded shell. The priest had no way of knowing how their bodies had changed but it was possible that the wood, either from its presence or the pain it inflicted, kept the boy from fully emerging.

Shifting the surprisingly hefty weight of the confined youth, Hamakto cradled him as one would a toddler, supporting the upper portion of the shell in the crook of one arm and the lower portion in the hollow of his folded legs. He rubbed the boys' sectioned stomach, as if he was easing away a pain he could not reach, in slow moving circles. "Rapi," he called in a soft voice, focused on the open top of the shell where he could see dark emerald skin. "Are you ok? Can you hear me? It's Hamakto, if you can, please come out, my son."

The priest had meant the words in a comforting manner but as he said them, they burrowed through his chest to embed themselves deep in his heart. Mi-kyky had already invited the once-man into their little family and if the others would allow him, Hamakto would gladly take up that mantle now. He felt a shift, followed by a tremor move through the hard body then a weak breathy whine reached his ears. "Shh shh, its okay, be still, be still." He cooed as he rubbed and rocked the injured child. Apparently something was very wrong and the boy was in pain.

By now the other children had realized something was wrong and the one of them was missing. They made their way over to Hamakto, as they crowded around him he could feel the hard yet smooth edges of their new bodies pressing into him as they tried to get closer to their brother. Though they had lost many of the human features that distinguished them from each other, they looked more like brothers now than they ever had before, there were still discernible differences between them. The most notable of which was their skin tone. Though they were all now green, the shades were varied enough that it would be easy enough to tell who was who with just a moment's observation. The turtle boy with skin the shade of young olives came to kneel in front of Hamakto and rested his forearm on the rat's linen covered leg so that he could reach Rapi's flesh thru one round opening towards the bottom of the shell. When he spoke, the priest could tell by the gapped tooth and calm demeanor that it was Dhouti-tenemi.

"Rapi," Dhoune said evenly as he tapped the hidden skin with one thick digit, "this is your foot. It feels different now but if you just wiggle a little it will come free and you can get your legs out." Everyone held their breath, waiting for some movement and after a pregnant pause, two dark green limbs slowly emerged.

"Well done," Hamakato praised. "Now, how about the rest of you?" Again there was shift within the shell and the exposed legs twisted and failed, but no more progress was made. From his angle, the priest could see muscles twitch and strain via the open top of the shell, but the barely detectable creak of wood accompanied each movement. The shard had not only shifted but somehow fused to the exposed bony plates. Before long, Rapi was visibly shaking and his pained cry came through clearly. His chest was moving rapidly and Hamakto was worried that he would pass out if his breathing did not calm. "Relax, my boy, deep breaths. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

The rat looked up just in time to see a worried look pass between Dhoune and the leafy green boy who must be Lateef-pamu. Hamkato's face tightened and worry seeped into his bones. "What? Tell me."

"It's just that…" Lemu hesitated, finding the words hard to get out, "... when everything is scrunched up together… it's kinda hard too…"

"He doesn't have enough room to take a deep breath, " Dhoune explained and there was fear evident in his brownish-red eyes. At his statement, Rapi resumed his flailing and even managed to kick Hamakto squarely in his elongated muzzle, allowing the panicked boy to tumble from the priest's lap.

When Hamakto had shaken the stars from his vision, he saw that the other boys had piled on top of their frantic brother, their combined weight containing him but their desperate pleas for him to calm down having no effect. A flash of pink caught the rat's attention, the portal had flared to life once again and he could see more of the kraang beings coming through. Now that he looked, the rat-man could see that the boys were not the only ones to have been caught in the poisoned spill. All around, animal men were gaining their feet and it was no longer possible to tell friend from foe. It seemed that the Aten-impersonators had called for their own troops to handle the matter. Their respite was over.

However there was no way that they could move till they had dealt with Rapi's condition, if they waited any longer the boy may do himself a permanent harm. Hamakto rose to join the others when his foot bumped into something in his path. A creeping dread traveled up his spine as he looked down. There at his feet was the hatchet that Lemu had been wielding, its sharp chiseled obsidian blade glinted wickedly up at him and Hamakto knew what he had to do. Snatching up the handle, he strode purposefully towards the rocking pile of shells and green limbs, not giving himself any time to second guess his decision.

"Hold him still," he commanded in a voice that could not be argued with, though Lemu choose to do so anyway.

"We're trying, " the oldest boy countered.

"No Trying. Do IT!" His voice was loud enough that even Rapi heard him through his panic and made the distressed child momentarily stop his struggles. The pause was enough for Dhoune and Lemu to each secure a leg while Mik draped his whole body over his stout brother's torso. Hamakto lowered to the floor, pinning the boy's chest under a knee and turned so that his body effectively blocked the view of what he must do from the other children.

"My son, " he said as he brushed the exposed skin near the confining wound with trembling fingers, "I am going to set you free, but you must remain very still. You must trust me Rapi." The priest took a final steadying breath before raising the black blade, praying that Ra would make his strike sure, Hamakto let the hatchet fall.

The first blow landed true, going cleanly thru the bony plate into the wood chip, creating the first half of the angled notch he would need to excise the shard. He shallowed the approach of his next strike, hoping to make the new wound as small as possible. The priest was working as quickly as he could to complete the task, but could not land the blow before Rapi tried to buck him off. The shift threw off his aim and caused the blade to miss completing the 'V' instead dipping into the skin and muscle underneath.

"HOLD HIM!" he yelled, the hatchet flinging droplets of red blood through the air as he brought it up again. He could not stop, he could not think, this had to be done. Bringing the weapon to bear again, the sound of cracking was his reward as the pressure from the struggle completed the work his third blow did not. He could see that the impaling shard was now moving independent of the boy's front plates. Hamakto could not rest, he could not listen to the screams coming from beneath and behind him. With shorter, almost angrier strokes, the priest set to work on Rapi's back. Here the wood had more fully fused to inner wall of the bony shell and it took several passes to free the shoulder from the boy's new armored back, the view of where to strike becoming more and more obscured by a growing river of red.

Hamakto was feeling himself becoming frantic when the hatchet, turned perpendicular to the other cuts, made a clean pass. Rapi's previously confined head emerged suddenly, gasping for air, sucking in great hungry breaths as his now freed arms splayed wide from his body, resting on the blood soaked stone. The priest stood instantly to allow the freedom of movement the boy needed in his chest and flung the hatchet away from himself violently, refusing to hold it a moment longer. He backed away, breathing heavily himself, shaking from both relief that Rapi was free and shock at what he had just done to the child, regardless of how necessary it had been.

Mi-kyky flung himself at his brother, the one who had been his constant protector, crying words that the priest could not understand, nuzzling and caressing him. Rapi turned on his good side, so that his shell faced Hamakto, and curled into the younger turtle-boy, one arm wrapped around his waist in a half embrace and face hidden in the smaller child's lap. The sound of soft crying and hitched breathing could be heard under the untranslated stream of Mik's attempts to comfort. Lateef-pamu had taken up a defensive position, placing himself between the other children and the rat-man, but close enough to Rapi that their shells touched. He kept looking back at the tabou behind him and then back at Hamakto. It was obvious the little leader was torn, his expression switching between soft confusion and anger. The priest did not blame him.

It was Dhouti-tnemei who broke the tension. He looked from his brothers to Hamakto, body still as his mind evaluated the situation, then stood and walked over to the priest. Hamkato looked down, waiting to hear condemnation or accusations, but was instead graced with shy closed-mouth smile and a large reddish-brown eyes brimming with gratitude and unshed tears. The young lanky turtle then embraced him in a quick but firm hug, rubbing his smooth cheek into the fur on the former-man's chest, before dashing away so abruptly that Hamakto didn't even have time to return the embrace. Dhoune went to the table of medicines to retrieve the basket of supplies he had gathered along with some cloth before returning to his injured brother. Once there he set to wiping away the blood and binding the wound again.

Lemu took in the scene then turned again to the priest. The rat-man took a step forward, no longer able to reframe from his desire to make sure that Rapi was ok, but paused as a rumbling came from Lemu's chest. The priest instantly recognized the threat on a deep instinctual level and halted his approach, his hands held with open palms towards the boy in a pleading and non-threatening gesture. Hamakto and the protective leader locked eyes for a minute before both took a deep breath and understanding fell between them. Neither had liked the events that had just transpired, but both understood that it had to be done. After a pause, Lemu straightened from his guarding posture and stepped to the side to allow Hamakto access to those he had sworn to protect, head held slightly downcast but eyes never wavering from the adult's approach. It was an act of trust despite the lingering wariness and the priest nodded his head in acknowledgement of it. However, he couldn't dwell on the depth of the gesture, right now the important thing to focus on was their escape.

"Rapi. Rapi? Rapi!" Everyone's eyes fell to Mi-kyky as his calls to his brother, which had started softly, became more frantic and he began shaking his elder's suddenly lax body. "RAPI!" He looked to Dhouni who had left their side momentarily to finish putting supplies in his basket but quickly returned at the youngest's frantic calls. "Dhoune! Rapi no wake!" the child cried.

"It'll be fine," the intelligent child soothed. "He hurts. The sleep will help him." Dhoune spoke with a gentle confidence but Hamakto could tell that the statement was said more out of hope than knowledge from the worried glance he shot towards himself and Lemu.

The priest couldn't stand to look upon the heartbreaking scene when he could offer them no comfort in return. He did not know if their efforts would ultimately be in vain, if he had truly saved Rapi's life or had only delayed the inevitable, setting the child on the path to a crueler lingering death through the wound he inflicted. He had seen it before, workers that had survived some horrible accident only to become lost in fever as their bodies slowly rotted away. He touched his own shoulder, he was not far removed from that fate himself. The wound was no longer detectable under his new pelt, the transformation seeming to reunite the skin and muscle beneath, though there was a faint soreness still present.

Looking away, Hamakto could see that the chaos of the room was beginning to come under control. Sobek could no longer been seen battling and a quick scan found him on the floor, entrapped in a thick-roped net and being slowly drug towards the portal behind a worm-beast. The priest's distress at the development was quickly compounded as several pink beings started waving their fleshy tentacles in their direction. Apparently Mik's shouting had finally attracted attention now that the other noises in the room were being quelled.

"Come, we must leave." The rat-man bridged the gap in three long strides and bent to scoop up the wounded child. Mi-kyky squeaked in protest when Rapi was beyond his reach. Hamakto gave him no heed but started to make his way towards the vent and their freedom, leaving Lemu to take the youngsters' hand and follow after him. Dhoune was just a step behind them with the basket of medical staples.

During their flight to the back wall the rat-man noticed a long length of rope coiled around a pillar where an iron ring had not been set but still had been used as a base to tether some beast. He called to Lemu and Mik to retrieve it, they would need it in order to maneuver Rapi through the confined space and reach the ground outside. He waited for them, bouncing on his new toes in trepidation, wanting to run ahead but reluctant to leave any of the children on their own in these dangerous circumstances. The rope was gathered quickly and the group was off again. Escape was less than a boat-length away.

"STOP!"

Hamakto screeched to a halt, skidding on the rough hewn stone. Looking around him, he checked to see if the children were all okay, for it sounded as if the command had come from right next to him. The boys just looked up at him confused. He shook his head and continued on, knowing that he had to reach the vent. He had not taken more than two steps when he heard it again.

"Go. No. Further!" The voice had not come from around him but bounced around inside of his skull. "You are going nowhere my old friend." This time he knew the voice and cold dread seeped into his soul. Faihorako.

"That's Lord Faihorako, rat." He could hear the cackle of the high priest's laugh in every corner of his mind, even as the worried voices of the boys filled his ears, though is was like trying to hear through water, only vague sounds on the outskirts of his perception. "I was worried that you had brought me to ruin this time. But it seems that you have only granted me more power. How can I ever thank you for that, brother?" Again there was a cruel amusement and Hamakto fought against it. He struggled desperately to push back the oppression he felt creeping into the very sinews of his body.

"Now kneel, and await the judgement of the gods." The response was immediate and Hamakto collapsed to the ground, the shock of the impact traveling up his knees and reverberating through his frame. He could sense the children tugging at him but he was powerless to respond to their desperate pleas to move. Lost within his clouded mind, he was vaguely aware of Rapi being pulled from his arms and he put up no resistance as the child left him and now empty limbs fell heavily to his side.

'Oh glorious Ra, who shines upon all, spare them. The mighty Sobek has judged these children innocent and worthy of his protection. Gather them in thy wings and bear them speedily to safety.' Hamakto offered up his silent prayer, a final plea to save the children that had become so precious to him so quickly, it was his the only thing he had left.

Again the cruel laughter echoed through his head. "Pray all you like, it will do you no good. I am one with my gods and you, you are far from Ra!" Then Faihorako's presence departed from his mind and he became aware of his surroundings once again. Only to wish he hadn't.

They were surrounded by the kraang, each of the children with two or three of the small Aten-like creatures crawling over them, trying to keep them subdued. Mi-kyky was being dragged across the floor, the sound his shell scraping on the stone could be heard. Lemu was putting up a fight, that was until one of the creatures pressed a short staff into the turtle's side, causing lightning to arc across the boy's body, making it twitch and jerk till the boy fell still.

Hamkato tried to rise and go to him, only to see a similar instrument being shoved into his furred chest. He screamed and writhed to no avail. The last thing the former priest saw before the world went black was a jagged bone white smile in a sea of pink.


	9. Chapter 9

He couldn't breath, didn't know where he was and everything was enveloped in a darkness that blotted out the very idea that light even existed. His body, his heart and his soul all felt bogged down. The sense that he would never find anything worth believing in again pervaded his senses, and for a moment he was tempted to let that sense of hopeless claim him. It would have been easy. To give in to the darkness. He could already feel the slithery tendrils of something beyond sinister reaching for him, ready to drag him down. A dark whisper crept into his mind, telling him that it was the right thing to do. That if he just gave in there would be something better, a peace in the surrender, past the abyss that was waiting to swallow him.

Then, when he felt the last of his fortitude being drained from him, he looked up and above him was the faintest hint of a rippling shimmer. He stretched up one arm and was able to feel a thick yet smooth resistance move along it. He let the limb fall and it slowly came to rest at his side again, but the downward pull propelled him further upward towards the light. He repeated the motion and was rewarded with a brightening of the glow as he grew closer to it.

The dark called to him again, trying to seduce him down to it's welcoming darkness but he would not be swayed, and kept his eyes firmly on the growing glow above him. Moving again, he realized that every gesture disturbed the space around him and caused a curtain of bubbles to float past him, rising slowly and unerringly upwards. The realization that he was underwater was both a panic and a relief. With a renewed sense of vigor and purpose, he pulled against the heavy liquid towards the surface. Towards the light.

Beneath him, the abyss screamed its indignation and lost all the gentle enticement it had once held. Shocked at the hatred within the foul, miasma that seeped around him, Hamakto made the mistake of looking down. Now that the light was closer, he could see the contrast between the two opposites. The darkness was a writhing seething mass. The sense of small bodies crawling over one another to create a creature that wanted to claim him, to add him to their number, to bend him to their collective will. A disjointed tendril, acting as a cohesive appendage though made up of smaller individuals, shot up and sunk into the flesh of his segmented tail with grasping pinpricks and biting pain. The rat-man opened his mouth in a wordless scream only to see the breath he was unaware he needed till that moment escape his lungs in violently vibrating orbs. In a panic, he looked at the heart of the mass of darkness, seeking escape, only to find two cold red possessive eyes staring at him, glinting with anticipation and joy at claiming their prize.

He was going to die and the abyss would claim his soul. The former priest fought harder at the thought, unwilling to go easily. He clamped his jaw shut in an effort to prevent the surrounding water from invading his body and stealing what little breath he had left. With measured strokes he tried to pull himself upwards, to reach the surface and escape the evil that already had its claws in him. The effort was valiant, he was gaining ground but it could not be sustained for long, his muscles strained and burned. The creature below did not yield its claim though, its hooks remaining firmly entrenched while willing to give the rat the leeway to wear himself out before reeling him in. Eventually Hamakto could feel himself weakening, losing ground and the light began to recede.

He looked up, for what he thought was a final time, to take with him a last image of the light, to emblazon it on his soul, if possible as a protection from the gloom that awaited. But the light was blocked by four rounded shapes in stark contrast to the streaming glow from above. The shapes began to grow larger and he realized with joy that they were coming for him and that he had no fear of them. As they got nearer his eyes were able discern their individual features and hope filled him as he recognized the turtle boys.

They moved swiftly with grace and power cutting through the water with precision. Dhouni and Mi-kyky latched onto his outreached hands while Rapi and Lemu speed past him, and within seconds he felt his tail freed from the force that had held him back. With quick kicks, the boys shot upwards, the large rat-man in tow, bringing him ever closer to the light, to the surface. Before long, there was the lip of a hard shell tucked underneath his armpit and a supporting arm went about his waist. He felt the rounded curve of another armored back brush against his calf. Close enough should assistance be needed but positioned to guard the rear of the retreating group.

Together they rocketed up till Hamakto's head finally breached the surface and in relief he sucked in hungry breaths. He registered that it was night, the moon was full and bright, the right eye of Horus restored and its reflection on water's surface had been the light he had strived so hard to reach. A moment allowed for him to regain his bearings, then the boys guided him closer to the bank till he could regain his footing in the soft Nile mud. He allowed himself to lean into Ra-pacis, who still remained at his side holding him up, until his heart had slowed and his breathing became easier. Then he straightened, once he felt a portion of his strength had returned, and looked at the four boys, now gathered around him in the water, and felt his heart swell with gratitude and pride.

The children, no, the young men were all healthy and hail before him. They were still young, on the cusp of childhood but where their bodies were not hidden by shell, muscles were becoming defined by long hours of hard labor. He looked them over when a joyful laugh erupted from his throat, an unanticipated response to the relief of being alive. He flung his arms wide and after only a moment's hesitation the turtles threw themselves at him with a splash, the group gave a collective sigh of relief as they clung tightly to one another.

"Boys." Hamakto cried with relief. "My sons." He crushed them to him, ignoring the pinch as his jewelry was pressed into his fur and caught. They had saved him. Brought him out of the darkness and back into the light. Whatever feelings he had for them before paled in comparison to what filled his heart now. He loved and cared for them beyond measure. He never wanted to let them go. They were his light now.

His peace was short lived, one moment they were steady within each others arms and the next they fighting to maintain their footing in the shifting silt as the ground shook. Hamkato grabbed a green arm, in an effort to keep both himself and its owner upright. He did not register which of his sons it was though because there was a far greater wonder drawing his attention.

Rising up from the sands, before the tombs of the Old Kings, a great statue rose into the inky heavens. As more became visible, it was clear that it was a portrait, hewn in gray stone, of Pharaoh Orakusakmet himself. It was so large that it nearly eclipsed the view of the great pyramid tomb behind it, upon whose pinnacle the full moon seemed to be precariously balanced. The spectacle was impressive enough it instill a sense of awe, a feeling that soon transformed to shocked fear when the stone effigy began to move.

With the creaking and scrape of rock grinding against rock, it raised an arm and extended an accusing finger at the former priest. "You doubted me. Doubted my power." The voice that spilled past stone lips was deep, rough and booming, an exaggeration of the Pharaoh's true tone, but nonetheless effective in causing the rat and turtles before it to cower and cover their ears to try and reduce the thrumming pain it caused in their heads. "Look now, Hamakto, Priest of Ra, my reach has no end and I shall be remembered as the greatest of Egypt's kings'! Greater even than Khufu!" With that, he closed his hand into a fist and twisted it. The ground shook once again before their eyes. The resplendent limestone casing of the great pyramid crumbled and fell away, leaving only the structured stone underneath, the exposed edges highlighted in stark pink tones. It was now but a shadow of it's former glory.

Wait. Pink? The russet rat looked up to the heavens, past the imposing statue of his liege, and saw another countenance. There in the place of the moon was the vestige of the Kraang, the Aten impersonator once again in the place of the celestial body that should have been shining down upon them. The soothing blue-white of moonbeams was replaced by the harsh pink that these corrupted children of Aten cast everywhere they went. Its flailing fleshy tentacles out and reaching, imparting damage upon the sacred tomb. Defiling it. Defiling Egypt. Corrupting the land and its king. Making the Pharaoh forget that he was their protector and emissary, leader of the two kingdoms and all that he was meant to stand for.

He could see that Pharaoh's heart had become as hard as the stone the took his image before them. He was no god-king. He was as greedy and petty as any man. He had been lured by the power these false gods gave. And Hamakto was sick of it. As the stone pharaoh's booming laugh echoed across the land, the former man turned away.

"Come, boys," he said quietly but could sense the youths gathering around him, ready to follow. The priest heard a soft clink about his neck and remembered that he still wore a priestly collar, symbol of his status and dedication. He grasped the golden disk of Ra that rested on his chest firmly in his palm and wrenched it from his body, the jeweled blue stones broke free and cascaded from him to be lost in the murky reed bordered waters. With a burning rage he threw the symbol of his god behind him and heard it fall amongst the reeds upon the bank. He did not know where he was going but he would not carry the burden of any gods, false or otherwise, upon his shoulders. "Let us leave this cursed land."

ooo00O00ooo

The slow opening of his eyes did nothing to dispel the darkness. But there was no fear behind this lack of light. All around him, the soft breathing and steady beats of four hearts besides his own filled the small cell they shared. It was a cramped space with no luxuries, their only comfort was a floor that was covered with straw like an animal's' stall. So, there was not much room to spread out should they feel so inclined, a point of contention during waking hours. Yet this night the children had tucked themselves close to him, a fist clutched in sleep twisted into his fur, trying to absorb his warmth against the early morning chill.

It had happened often enough in the past two weeks that he had become used to it. Apparently the children could not hold their heat as well since the change, though not entirely a disadvantage given the daylight fieriness that encompassed their homeland, the cooler temperature of the underground rooms were occasionally uncomfortable for them. During the first tenuous days after their failed attempt to escape, he had been forced to use his body to keep Ra-pacis warm when the shaking and chills had wracked his small body.

When they had initially awoken in their cell he was not with them. The boys had been frantic and Hamakto had feared the worst. But two hours later, Rapi had been brought to them, cradled in the hollow of a blanket, carried in by two guards while a third leveled a spear in the rat's direction to ensure that he made no sudden moves. Upon finding that the boy's shoulder had been treated but there was blood seeping through the bandages, Hamakto had begged for medicines, linens and water of the guards. One man looked at him with sympathy but shook his head.

"They," he gave no explanation of who he was talking about but the tone was filled with reservation and trepidation that let Hamakto know he was referring to the Karaang, "wish to see how well he heals now. If he survives till this hour three days hence, you will receive what you have asked for." The three guards left and the door was closed and latched firm. The man paused at the small square hole in the door set at eye level. "Daily rations will come in a few hours. But even the bread we get is poor. I wonder if there is any seasoning to take away the PAIN of having to eat it."

The priest heard the inflection change and saw the compassion in his eyes. He took the hint and nodded his gratitude. "A spread of lotus and honey will make anything palatable." The guard nodded and left. Hamakto was grateful when later two of their portions of flattened bread hide the ingredients between them. The lotus stem would help lessen the pain when chewed on, though it would be more effective if he could boil it, and he smeared the honey on the wound itself. It wasn't much but he hoped it would be enough.

It had been a long three days.

Hamakto smiled as he felt the hard shells and smooth limbs leaned against him in slumber with Mik snuggled into his customary place against the rat's chest. Rapi had survived. His strength and the loving attention of his brothers had pulled him through. He was still tender and they had to be careful with his left side but he was healing at a remarkable rate. The notches in his chest and shell had sealed off at the cuts and made no indication that they would ever fuze back together. In contrast the flesh underneath and on his shoulder, now free of any wooden remnants, were on the mend and the scars would be small if noticeable at all. The boy's recovery, and continued improvement, went far in the children's acceptance of him as part of their family and the soothing of his own conscience.

As he reminisced and enjoyed the small moment of peace, so rare in their existence now, the dark he had awoken too was being invaded by the soft glow of torchlight seeping through the gaps between the door and its frame and the square port the guards used to check on visitors. Hamakto settled his breathing and closed his eyes once again. Better that the guards were unaware that he was awake. The last thing he needed was to be dragged into an early morning session with Faihoruko, or as the sadistic man would force Hamakto to call him, Master of the Rats. He couldn't keep away the shiver of fear that ran through his body but made an effort to tame his tremors when the children began to shift around him, eliciting small sleepy groans of displeasure at being disturbed. Thankfully they settled again easily and after a moment steady breathing and the occasional whistlely snore indicated they had fallen back into a deep slumber.

The footfalls he had originally taken to be guards were coming closer, but instead of hearing the rub of leather and rough cloth as they moved, he could detect the chink of a many delicate pieces of metal chinking against each other and the slide of finely woven garments. The scent of expensive oils wafting towards him, confirming that whoever approached was of a higher class than normally ventured into the 'Stables' as some of his fellow prisoners had taken to calling their accommodations. Accompanying the nobel was the decaying dog smell he had learned to associate with Anubis. He ears twitched as his enhanced hearing was able to discern the soft conversation being held.

"Most of the Pantheon is now represented with only a few exceptions." There was only a small grunt of acknowledgement and the low rumbling voice of the death dog continued his report. "The festival of Bast will be upon us shortly. The goddess giving tribute to you at her temple will go far in quelling the southern dissenters."

There was anger in the return comment and Hamakto was surprised to find that it was Orakusakmet. "They will remember who is their king or I will make their lands run with blood instead of beer."

"Of course My Pharaoh, but it may not need to come to that," Anubis placated.

"Very well. I have the perfect candidate in mind. I am tired of her cries souring my harem anyway. I will have her sent to Faihoruko by mid-day," Hamakto felt a clenching in the pit of his stomach, he supposed it was in sympathy of the poor woman who was to be changed, but there was an underlying sense of foreboding that accompanied the sensation.

"His eminence may not be the best option, Great Pharaoh." There was a slight pause before Anubis expounded. "I have noticed a sickness come upon him since the chamber. He has taken to talking to vermin and even keeps one upon his person. And his preoccupation with the rat-priest is growing. I doubt he will willingly give us a cat-goddess."

Orakusakmet took his time responding but when he did the words were even and calculating. "So be it, he had acolytes that knew the process just as well. Find one of them to complete the task. Afterwards keep her away from here and at your apartments. Ply her with baubles and fine wine. Give her maidservants and rich furnishings. Perhaps if we treat her as a goddess, she will perform as one for us."

"As my king commands." He could practically hear the dog drooling over the extravagance and prestige that was being conferred upon his house.

"How many are left here?" The Pharaoh asked, indicating a change of topic and reason for the personal inspection.

"Not many. The children of Aten are fond of taking those not suitable for the pantheon through the gateway. Many do not return. Those who would be gods are being taught their roles, though some of those require greater persuasion than others to comply."

They stopped in front of his door and Hamakto could feel their appraising looks as the torchlight glowed red through his closed lids. "Has the high priest been able to subdued him any?"

"It is unclear. When his focus is upon him, Hamakto seems unable to defy, but as soon as the sessions are over the control splinters and the rat is master of his own mind once again."

"I see."

"Why the trouble, my Lord? Neither he nor his little pets are worthy of the god's barge. It may be best to get rid of them." Hamakto felt his heart race and fought to keep his body from betraying him.

"The Aten seemed interested in the turtle-boys. I will not risk a misunderstanding till they have decided what to do with them. As for Hamakto, I have my own reasons for ordering his end but I find that seeing him brought so low pleases me." The voice of the Pharaoh started to drifted away as he continued down the hall. "Until then, this temple is not yet complete. Put them to work, if they resist, kill them."

Hamakto gathered the children in his arms, ignoring their sleepy complaints, then tucked his head down upon theirs and nuzzled and scented them, imprinting them upon his heart and soul. He would do anything to protect them, to teach them, to help them grow and to make sure they survived. As always, his dreams had shown him the way. When the time came, when they were strong enough, they would find a way to leave.

He was unaware of the tears soaking his fur until a small hand patted his muzzle comfortingly. He hugged them tighter and this time they all hugged him back.


	10. Chapter 10

The soft scratching of stylus against papyrus was an odd counterpoint to the hum of of the cicadas, their song indicating that the midday heat would continue without relief. Though it didn't seem to affect the boys very much, Hamakto's fur pelt made the midday heat miserable. At times like this he almost wished that they were still confined to their underground cell, though it was, at most, a fleeting whim of a thought.

The rat was taking a short break while his turtle children continued progress on the wall that they were currently decorating. True to his word, Orakusakmet had put them to work. Two days after over-hearing their pre-dawn conversation, Anubis had ushered them, along with some of the other remaining animal-man prisoners, out of their cells and outlined their duties along with thinly veiled threats about the consequences of disobedience. Their first weeks were spent hauling blocks and other heavy labor. Within his rat body, Hamakto was slowly being transformed, from the softer body his quiet life of a priest had afforded him, to one of corded muscle. He accepted the tasks without complaint, except when the children were being pushed too hard. On such occasions, he would take the blows meted out for his defiance but never pressed his case so far that he or the boys would be in danger of greater punishment. The former priest was just thankful that the majority of the heavy construction had been finished before the heat of the dry season had fully set in.

Once the majority of the heavy work was done, he and the boys had be reassigned to sketching out, chiseling, and painting the reliefs and glyphs that would eventually cover nearly every wall and pillar. It was work that they were all suited to, with the exception of Lemu, whose talent for the arts was somewhat limited, though his writing was slowly improving. While Mik, Rapi and Dhoune would work on enhancing the images and spells Hamakto would sketch out for them, following the plans he was given, Lemu would make sure that they were stocked with sharpened chisels, paints, water and any other supply they might require. At the moment, the eldest sat next to Hamakto in companionable silence while bringing a dulled copper chisel back into working order by honing it carefully against a whetted stone.

"Two pink, left side." Lemu muttered so softly that anyone without the supersensitive hearing of the rat-man beside him had no chance of catching it. "Small grub."

Hamakto shifted his eyes to the left and noted the Kraang patrol. Without a noticeable pause he made a cryptic mark to the side of his scroll. He frowned a bit at what the columns of deceptively simple scribbles told him, there was still no evidence of their overlord's diligence slacking off. Though they had gained some privileges over time, a larger space to lay at night being foremost, along with ample food, it was obvious that they were still not trusted. It was not a mistaken assumption, Hamakto knew that it would only be a matter of time till their usefulness reached it's limit, so he always had thoughts of escape in the back of his mind.

The rat-man was careful not to allow such ideas into the forefront of his conscious mind. His daily waking thoughts were not a safe place for him to plan. Instead he took his cryptic notes and then tried his best to forget about them. He returned to the record he was making with just that intention. Focusing on the past instead of planning for the future was a safer venture, one less likely to bring punishment down upon him and his turtle children should the 'Master of Rats' chose to sample his thoughts.

"Neb-it" Lemu said in that quiet, reflective tone he had when something was bothering him. Hamakto stopped his writing but said nothing, waiting for the boy to voice what was bothering him. After a few moments of stillness between them, the youth spoke again. "Why?" He looked up to the guardian with disappointment and hurt thinly veiled behind his questioning gaze. "Why are we still here?"

"Because the temple is not yet done," he answered, knowing that it was not what the boy was asking at all. "Once it is we will be at the king's pleasure as to where we go or what we do next."

There was a sound of disgust and the boy now had Hamakto's full attention. All the boys could be cranky at times. It came with living in stressful conditions and the closeness they now shared, but he had never seen such blatant disrespect from Lateef-pamu directed at him.

"I read the scrolls," Lemu was now openly glaring at the adult. "The ones you keep in the pots buried in the corner."

It was Hamakto's turn to glare back before schooling his features. Everyone in the family knew of his writings, it was hardly something that he could hide when making them, but he had thought that an expectation of privacy about their contents had been understood. He wrote many things, about his past, about their time together but mostly about his dreams. Trying to tease out the meanings behind the imagery that continued to fill his nights, hoping to find a way to overcome the horrors that now encompassed their lives.

"Oh," he drawled with feigned calm. "and what has your study revealed?"

The pensive turtle looked away with a frown. "That bad things are happening or will happen. Not only to us, but all across Egypt. That someone needs to put a stop to it!" Lemu's voice had risen and Hamakto put a hand on his shoulder reminding him that they still in the open. He continued sullenly. "That we should be doing something about it."

Despite the attitude, Hamakto couldn't have been more proud at the sentiment "Lemu," he entreated but the young turtle refused to look up at him. "My son," he called again finally getting him to look the rat in the eyes. "You have always had a noble heart. You are right," the boy smiled slightly "but the time is not yet at hand."

"But…"

"You and your brothers are still young. No matter how noble the cause, rushing to it without proper preparation will only make you unmarked martyrs to it. We are not ready to take up this mantle. And I love you boys too much to risk the consequences of premature rebellion." Hamakto sighed. He was not happy with their predicament but knew it was the right path, for now. "Grow, learn, and become stronger. What we do now is no worse that what we have done in the past. And while we are here we can learn more of our enemies, that we may one day exploit their weaknesses."

He could tell that Lemu was struggling with the concept. "But what if something bad happens before we're ready?" He looked into Hamakto's eyes and they glistened with fear. "What if yo… one of us doesn't last till the time is right?"

Hamakto caught the change in what Lemu was about to say and understood the boy's fear. Just three days ago Hamakto had been returned to their space from a rather intense session with the 'Master of Rats'. He was exhausted from the exercises he had been forced to perform, both mentally and physically. The entire time trying to hide all the things he didn't want the priest to know. It had affected him in frightening ways, the boys had told him later. He was a true animal, feral and snapping at them, straining weekly against their attempts to hold him still to the point of causing himself more injury. Apparently in the end it was Mi-kyky who was able to soothe him with a calming song and gentle hands. It had scared them all. One day, he may be a real threat to the turtle children or not come out of the experience altogether whole.

He squeezed the boy's shoulder, sure that his own eyes were damp now. "Lemu, something bad may very well happen. But that does not matter. It is how we respond to it that will make the true difference." He smiled, his whiskers twitching with pride. "You led your brothers before we ever met. You will become an even greater leader after I am gone. It is a privilege that you and your brothers look to me now, one that I do not take lightly. But until that day comes that I can no longer be with you, I must ask that you trust me." The mottled leaf-green face gave a small smile and nod of agreement.

"Now," he clamped the boy on the shell and motioned for them to rise, rolling his parchment tightly to finish later, making note that he would need another storage pot in his not so secret corner. "Let's bring your brothers some water before they think we've left them to roast." Lemu nodded and gathered his supplies.

On cue Mi-kyky rounded the corner at full tilt laughing maniacally while brandishing a paint ladened reed brush. Shortly afterwards came Rapi in a full rage armed with a chisel and mallet. Dhoune was not far behind shouting for the both of them to stop running before they got in trouble. Mik immediately took shelter behind Lemu, who was hard pressed to keep his fuming brother at bay. Dhoune stopped outside the circle of conflict and begged them all not to ruin his good tools.

Hamakto saw the rude drawing on Rapi's shell and stayed free of the argument knowing that it would blow over quickly. Though they would have to ask for permission to go down to the baths later, most likely Mik's ultimate goal. Hamakto let the scene seep into his heart. They would grow strong by leaning on each other. They would someday face insurmountable odds, dangers they could not yet image. They would overcome. They would save Egypt from the blight it was now afflicted with.

But right now they were just his sons.

ooo00O00ooo

The soft clink of glasses being placed on the hard oak desk might have well have been a death knell for the impact it made on the room.

"Well… then what?"

Not bothering to pause from gently massaging his own brow the haggard, but distinguished, older gentleman addressed his younger and wearingly enthusiastic assistant. "What do you mean, 'then what'?" his British accent noticeable in his agitation, despite working Stateside most of his career.

"What happens next? What becomes of the rat priest and the turtle children?"

The stupidity of the young was a constant amazement to him, it must be some fault with the current trend towards reliance on technology over common sense, and therefore he did not dignify the query with a verbal response. With gloved fingers he gently tapped the end of the scroll he had just finished translating, the fragility of such an ancient document ingrained in his movements desipite his annoyance. He did, however, reach over and turn off the digital recorder with more effort than was absolutely lol necessary.

The two looked at each other for a moment, the stale air of the museum basement becoming thick with tension before the grad student lowered his gaze in ashamed embarrassment. "Oh... that's right, that was the only intact vase logged for that site."

"Indeed." The chair creaked as the senior eased himself out of it, not bothering to conceal his complimenting moan as stiff vertebrae popped back into almost normal alignment.

Not quite willing to let the subject fall, the temptation to dig up the mysteries of past, which had lead him to his archaeological studies in the first place, the young man challenged his superior. "There should be more though, this is a completely unknown mythology, at least one that I've never come across. What if this scroll is the only surviving mention of it? That's another thing, intact papyrus from this era is almost unheard of, that in and of itself is significant. You have to have to admit that much at least Dr. Wentworth."

Dr. Karl J. Wentworth took a moment to pause and consider the intern's points, deemed them valid and dismissed their relevance just as quickly. "It is a most unusual document to be sure but it will soon no longer be our concern. In two days, it will be on it's way to Cairo along with the rest." He gestured to the twenty-three wooden crates stacked near the freight elevator, most already nailed shut, their ancient treasures safely cocooned inside. "Now finish with the photography and pack it away. Make sure the pot is properly cushioned, wouldn't want it to shatter in route. We'll catalogue the last of the statues this afternoon. The Akhenaten bust is still on the maybe list, so we won't prep it till I hear from the director." The old professor chuckled to himself as he tidied up his work surface and made a few notations to be entered into the database later. "Though honestly, if he thinks he's going to get anywhere with Minister Hawass, he's kidding himself. Zahi is not known for making exceptions."

"Really, that's it. An archaeological mystery falls into your lap and you act like you're filing tax returns?!" The desperation laced resentment was plain to hear.

Wentworth quietly picked up his glasses and cleaned them with precision before restoring them to their accustomed perch. "And what is it that you would have from me, Mister Gates?" he asked in an even voice.

"Well some enthusiasm would be a nice start. How can you just let this go? Aren't you curious? Think about the implications! This could open up entirely new avenues of exploration surrounding the collapse of the Old Kingdom. Obviously it's full of myth and allegory, but it's also a new perspective. Think of the shift it could cause in established theories!" Gates was fully immersed in his visions of world renowned breakthroughs, pacing the floor and gesturing wildly when a more sinister thought made him pause. The older gentleman had a reputation for being a stickler to accepted theories and had failed more than a few students in his day for straying outside proven parameters. "Or is that the problem? Tell me, Dr. Wentworth are you so mired in your established academia that you would rather not 'rock the boat' and risk your reputation?" The tenacity of youth bucking against the system colored his accusation.

The older man took a deep breath before meeting his young colleagues' gaze, an unfamiliar spark of anger in the eyes that peered past thick burgundy frames. "Would a dissertation on the use of carapaces as mixing bowls after their ritualized slaughter because turtles were associated with Set, the enemy of Ra, please you? Or perhaps an article on the popularity of Sobek because, though he was a fierce and powerful deity, he was also considered a protector of the innocent? Maybe a paper presenting the hypothesis that brains were in fact destroyed during the mummification process, not because their function was misunderstood, but to prevent the resurrection of these supposed Karaang beings. Would that satisfy you? How about I chop off a corner of the papyri and send it to the nearest CSI lab. I'm sure they could tell us exactly what about the scroll's composition has contributed to its preservation. Shouldn't take more than an hour or two." The aging historian's voice, which had remained steady and calm throughout his rebuttal, was now gaining some heat of it's own. "And please, tell me, Mister Gates. What gives you the right to lay such a burden of proof at MY feet? Do you think that I can just take it upon myself ignore the orders of curators, countries, and international edicts simply because I found something interesting? Hell, you wouldn't even know what was in that damn scroll if I hadn't translated it FOR you, you self-pretentious little whelp!"

"Pro.. profess.."

"Don't professor me. Eager to change the world are you?" He huffed and pulled his hands free from the protective gloves with vigor. "Well no one's stopping you. Take the pictures for the insurance and as many others as you see fit. Make a copy of the audio file for all I care. I'm positive it will make a wonderful topic for your final thesis. Do what you will, just make sure you lay your own name, not mine, on the gallows for the vultures to pick apart." He stared at the young man, now properly quelled, who was barely past his mid-twenties, so full of enthusiasm but really little more than a babe when it came to understanding how the world really worked, and had a pang of compassion. He used to be that young and naive, devoted to changing history, he'd paid the price for his indiscretion. One did not become relegated to the basement without reason. Taking a deep breath, Dr. Wentworth reined in his temper, and attempted to make peace.

"Mark, my lad, I know you mean well, but sometimes the fates just don't align. Sometimes you can do nothing more than lay the groundwork for another's success. Just remember, your role isn't diminished even if no one knows the part you played." He spoke softly and smiled letting his assistant know that all had been forgiven.

"I understand Dr. Wentworth."

"I'm sure you don't, Mister Gates, but perhaps someday you will. Take the copies, with my blessing, just make sure you examine them on your own time." Mark nodded his agreement, the gleam of excitement returning to his eyes and Karl was glad to see it. He grabbed his jacket and a simple brown sack and headed towards the door. "Now if you'll excuse me, Maggie said she made me tuna salad for lunch and I don't intend to let it go to waste."

ooo00O00ooo

Time passed as it inevitably does. The old makes way for the young and the present decays into the past. Dr. Karl Wentworth retired to a small town outside of Phoenix, living peacefully with his wife Margaret and their two cats Sphynx and Shard. He left the basements behind, doing his small part to preserve the legacies of others and a heritage for the future to learn from. The Professor did, however, on occasion volunteer at the local library, finding the long rows of shelves a familiar and comforting environment. Though his favorite activity would always be when he got to be the guest reader at storytime.

Mark Gates received his masters degree, with an impressive but safe thesis on the use of satellite photography in discovering potential dig sites. Finding some success, he eventually secured a position as media liaison for the egyptology department at the Met. What it really meant was that in return for being able to spend his winters on digs and his summers cataloging and writing, he would have to sit for interviews, construct press releases, and give the occasional tour.

So it was that one summer afternoon, when a weather worn reporter found his way to Mark's small cubical, he was not particularly surprised. That changed when the journalist handed over his business card and the egyptologist felt a barely contained thrill, a swelling hope that maybe they had something in common.

"Thanks for seeing me Mr. Gates. I was wondering if I maybe I could have a minute of your time. I came across an interesting piece of info regarding something called the Panyamer Scroll and thought that maybe you could help me out."

"Yes. The rat-priest scroll. I've heard of it."

"Maybe you've also heard of certain creatures mentioned in it. Go by the name of the Kraang."

He couldn't help but smile. Suddenly, the six years he had spent slowly and secretly amassing info from across the ages didn't seem so wasted. He had never forgotten his old mentor's words. Mark had guarded his name and reputation, playing a good public game and biding his time. Maybe now he had finally found someone who could distribute his findings. Bending down to retrieve something from the bottom drawer of his desk, he straightened again and passed his fellow truth-seeker a thick notebook.

"Mr. Kurtzman, I think you may want to look at this."

THE END


End file.
